Between Families
by phoenixqueen
Summary: Even in Narnia, there is nothing so strong as the bond of a family...but which family will prevail when Peter is forced to make a choice between his siblings and the family of his heart? Movie-verse sort-of. Major AU, but not a Mary Su!
1. Prologue: Sworn Vows

_**Between Families**_

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own anything in this story! All references to Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis. I am not making a profit on this. I am simply trying to beat back the invading horde of plot bunnies that are eating me out of house and home._

_**Summary: **__There is nothing so strong as the bond of a family…but which family prevails?_

_**Timeline: **__Post-__The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe__, pre-(and through)__Prince Caspian__ with flashbacks to the Pevensies' reign in Narnia._

_**A/U?: **__Majorly._

_**Rating: **__PG-13, mostly, although some chapters will have slightly strong language. I'll make a note of those chapters as they come about._

_**A/N: **__This is mostly going to be movie-based (somewhat), but there will be some MAJOR changes as the story progresses, especially to the timeline. I have read the books and loved them for years, but for simplicity's sake we're going with the movies. Also, the ages of the characters are as follows: Peter is 16, Susan is 15, Edmund is 12, and Lucy is 10. In flashbacks they may be older or younger, but these are the ages for the main part of the story. Oh, and this is **NOT** a Mary-Sue, but there are going to be original characters in the story._

_**A/N # 2: **This story was inspired by my dearest friend Gwenneth and her wonderful story "To War", which I helped to beta for her. As we were bouncing ideas around one night, this topic came up in discussion, and lo and behold, a new plot bunny materialized in my apartment. (sighs and starts throwing them out the door and windows) If you haven't read "To War", please go and do so! It is currently finished but undergoing revision, and the sequel will be up very soon._

* * *

_**Prologue: Sworn Vows**_

_Cair Paravel…six years into the Pevensie's reign…_

"I can't believe that I am about to do this!"

Eighteen-year-old Edmund shook his head, trying his best to hold in his laughter as his twenty-two-year-old brother Peter paced the small antechamber where they were waiting. His brother was neatly dressed in formal robes of the royal scarlet, and his golden crown, studded with rubies, was neatly balanced atop his pale blonde hair.

Finally, just when Edmund thought that the situation couldn't get any more amusing, his brother fisted his hands in his hair, nearly dislodging his crown. **That** did it. Edmund burst out laughing, which made Peter look up and growl, "What's so amusing, Ed?"

"**You!** Peter, you've faced down armies twice as large as your own without blinking! You've settled disputes that would have started wars! You learned all the proper court etiquette in record time, and you're worried about **this**?" Edmund laughed louder, his dark hair – a contrast to his brother's pale locks – bouncing up and down with the force of his chuckles.

"This is different, Ed!" Peter exclaimed. "I'm about to get married!"

It was true, and as Peter continued to fret, Edmund thought back on the events that had led them to this point.

Six years ago, through a series of events that Edmund could barely recall now, he and Peter, along with their two sisters Susan and Lucy, had stepped through a doorway into the world of Narnia.

At the time they had entered Narnia, the land had been in the grip of an evil Witch named Jadis, who had cast a spell to make it always winter, but never Christmas. The arrival of Edmund and his siblings had been the catalyst that had begun the end of the Witch's reign. Together, they had defeated Jadis and had been crowned Kings and Queens of Narnia. That had been six years ago.

In those six years, Narnia had flourished under their rule. Many were calling it a Golden Age, although compared to the way things had been under Jadis' rule, that wasn't an especially hard distinction to earn.

Ever since they had been crowned, Edmund and his siblings had been courted by royalty and nobility from Narnia's neighbors. Many sought them out, seeking to form an alliance marriage. Thus far, none of them had agreed to a marriage until a young lady named Krisalyn, from Archenland, had won Peter's heart.

Edmund brought his thoughts back to the present as Peter began pacing again. Edmund watched his brother, a frown crossing his face at his frenetic motions. "Peter, what are you so worried about? You love Lady Krisalyn don't you?"

Peter paused his pacing and looked at his younger brother. "More than you can imagine, Ed."

"She loves you, yes?"

Peter nodded.

"Then **don't worry**. All you're doing is publicly affirming your love." Edmund smiled and reached up to remove his brother's crown. Peter appeared confused, until Edmund began smoothing his hair, which had been mussed when Peter fisted his hands in it. Once the pale locks were back in place, Edmund gently replaced the crown on Peter's head.

"This is different, Ed!" Peter said again. "You won't be laughing when it's your turn!"

Edmund grasped his brother's shoulders. "Peter, you can do this. We're all going to be there with you."

There was a look of near-panic in Peter's blue eyes. Before Edmund could say anything more, there was a quiet tapping at the door.

Edmund released his brother, walked over to the door and pulled it open to find sixteen-year-old Lucy standing there, dressed in a formal gown of scarlet trimmed in gold. Her long, dark hair was upswept and pinned in place and her crown gleamed softly in the light from the torches. "Is he ready, Ed?"

Edmund glanced at Peter, who was pacing again, and shook his head. "Not really."

Lucy took a look at her eldest brother and her dark eyes widened. She turned in a flurry of skirts and hurried down the corridor. Edmund stared after her, but before he could wonder what she was doing, she was back, with a large, regal lion pacing beside her.

Edmund knelt swiftly. "Aslan."

"Rise, Edmund," the great lion spoke, his voice warm and full of love. As Edmund rose to his feet, Aslan continued. "I would speak with your brother alone."

Edmund nodded and stepped out of the way, holding the door open as the lion moved on silent paws into the room. Edmund pulled the door closed behind the great cat and turned to Lucy. "That was a good idea, Lu."

Inside the room, Aslan watched Peter pace back and forth. The King was so nervous he hadn't even realized that Aslan was in the room with him. The lion sat down and regarded the High King with his warm golden eyes. "Peter."

Peter's head jerked up and he stopped in his tracks. "Aslan!" He immediately approached the lion and knelt in front of him. "I didn't know that you were coming!"

"Rise, Peter," Aslan said with a low chuckle. "Surely you didn't think I would neglect to come to celebrate the marriage of the High King?"

"I didn't know you were aware of it, Aslan. If I had known you were here I would have greeted you."

"That is not necessary, Peter," Aslan reassured him. His warm eyes regarded the young King as Peter rose back to his feet. "Tell me, Peter…what do you fear? This is a happy day."

Peter huffed out a breath and started to run his hands through his hair again, before he remembered how Ed had already fixed his hair once. He slowly lowered his hands and clenched them at his side. "I love her, Aslan. But…something about what we're doing…it just scares the hell out of me. Am I too young for this? Am I ready to be a husband?" He gazed back at Aslan.

Aslan chuckled, a low, soft rumbling in his throat. "I cannot answer that question for you, Peter. Only you can see into your own heart and make your choices based on that. But I would give you some advice. Not long ago, you felt you weren't ready to become High King. Yet here you are today, High King Peter the Magnificent. You found your truth then. You can find it in your heart today. There are some things in life that make a person pause to reflect on their lives. Marriage is one such thing. I don't think anyone is really ready to be married, and if they are, they are lying to themselves. It is an important decision, but it is one only you can make for yourself." He rose to his feet and paced up to Peter, his great golden eyes meeting the deep blue ones. With a gentle breath, he exhaled softly, the warm breath washing over Peter. "If you fear whether you are making the right choice, you must discover what your heart is telling you, because it is your heart and not your logic that usually guides you to the right choice."

Aslan turned and moved back towards the door. Glancing back over his shoulder, he regarded Peter again. "Whatever you decide, Peter, know that I am proud of you, and I am confident that you'll make the decision that is right for you." With that, the great lion nudged the door open and vanished into the corridor.

* * *

The throne room was packed full of people. Everyone had come to celebrate the marriage of their High King and his chosen bride. Outside, the sun shone with a gentle radiance, lighting up the room through the glass ceiling. Flowers were everywhere, their sweet fragrances dancing into the throne room on each delicate breeze that wafted in through the open balcony doors and windows.

Peter took a deep breath and stepped forward to where Edmund and his sisters were waiting beside Aslan. As part of his family and his half of the wedding party, all of them were dressed in the royal scarlet and gold that had been chosen for his half of the ceremony. Lady Krisalyn's wedding party had chosen blue and silver, the Archenland colors, for themselves.

His siblings and Aslan all looked up at him and Peter nodded, indicating his desire to go through with the ceremony. His stomach was still flip-flopping in knots, but he was certain he was making the right decision.

"Peter," Edmund said quietly. "I know the plan was to have me officiate the ceremony, but now that Aslan's here, would you rather have him officiate and have me stand up with you?"

Peter looked at his younger brother, before turning to look at the great cat. After a moment he nodded again. "I'd be honored if you would officiate, Aslan," he stated softly so his voice wouldn't carry. As the lion nodded his regal head, Peter turned back to his brother. "That is, if you don't mind, Ed?"

Edmund shook his head. "I don't mind at all, Peter." The younger King thought quickly. "Su, let me have the ring."

Susan passed the red velvet cushion to her younger brother, before quickly disappearing down another side corridor leading to the antechamber where Lady Krisalyn was waiting with her attendants. She returned a few moments later. "Lady Krisalyn didn't mind the change of plans," she murmured.

Edmund nodded and signaled to Mr. Tumnus, who was waiting near the dais that held the four thrones of prophecy. The faun turned to the orchestra that was waiting for just that signal. The instruments rose, and a moment later a trumpet fanfare echoed through the chamber, drawing all to silence. Susan and Lucy both quickly embraced their older brother before moving to take their places.

As the fanfare repeated itself, Aslan paced gravely down the aisle that had been left open, his steps slow and measured, full of contained power and grace. The sunlight caught his coat and it flamed a brilliant gold. As he reached the dais, he ascended the steps and turned to face the crowd, standing directly between the two groups of thrones.

Lucy followed Aslan down the aisle, her gown swishing around her ankles and the bouquet of red tulips and carnations, with a single white rose in the middle, lightly resting in her hands. She moved up the aisle but did not ascend the dais, instead stepping off to the side so that she was in front of her own throne, but still on the floor. Susan followed her sister, her own bouquet made of golden lilies and daffodils, also with a single white rose. She paused so that she was standing one step up from Lucy, on the younger girl's right.

Edmund clasped Peter's shoulder quickly and squeezed once, before moving down the aisle to join his sisters and Aslan. When he reached the dais, he moved up to the second step and stood on Susan's right. In his hands was a small scarlet cushion holding a single golden ring with a deep ruby in the center and surrounded by diamonds.

Then it was Peter's turn. He took one last, deep breath, before straightening his shoulders and moving down the aisle. He moved up to the third and final step before the top of the dais, and stood just to Aslan's left. He was still standing lower than the great lion and he turned to face the crowd.

The trumpets sounded again and the bride and her wedding party moved to the head of the aisle. The attendants were all garbed in blue and silver. First to approach was the bride's younger sister, who held a bouquet of blue irises and baby's breath, also with a single white rose in the center. She moved down the aisle and took her place opposite Lucy, on Aslan's right.

The second member of the bridal party was the bride's niece, who carried bluebells and larkspur and a single white rose. She moved down the aisle and stopped opposite Susan. The last member of the bridal party was Lady Krisalyn's twin brother, who carried the blue velvet pillow that held a silver ring with deep sapphires. He moved up the steps and stopped on the same level as Edmund.

Lady Krisalyn appeared at the far end of the room, her gown of silver silk and satin falling in elegant folds around her. She clutched a bouquet that combined all the flowers in both halves of the wedding party. As she moved gracefully towards the dais, Peter swore his heart was about to stop beating. She was absolutely lovely, just as she had seemed the night that he had met her, almost a year ago.

"_Ah, Lady Krisalyn," King Lune stated happily as he and Peter walked through the throne room, conversing quietly as the party went on around them. The older King turned to Peter. "High King Peter, I would like to introduce you to my niece, the Lady Krisalyn. Krisalyn, this is High King Peter of Narnia."_

_Krisalyn dropped immediately into a low curtsy. "It is a great honor to meet you, Your Majesty." She waited respectfully until Peter indicated that she could rise, before raising her eyes to meet his._

_It took all of Peter's control to hold in the gasp of surprise. Lady Krisalyn's eyes were a rare and striking violet color, and her hair was jet black, woven into a graceful braid and pinned into a coil at the base of her neck. She wore a gown to match her eyes, trimmed in silver, and around her neck was a slender necklace of silver, with a large amethyst. "The pleasure is mine, Lady Krisalyn," he managed after a moment, taking her hand and kissing it gallantly._

Now she stood before him, her brilliant eyes shining with joy, although he thought he caught a tiny flicker of nervousness in them as well. That brought him some measure of relief, knowing that she was nervous too. They had gotten along splendidly from the time they had been introduced, and it hadn't been long before Peter was head over heels in love with her.

Peter reached out one of his hands and she handed her bouquet off to her niece before taking Peter's hand and allowing him to escort her up the stairs, where they turned to face Aslan, who was looking down on them with love.

"People of Narnia and Archenland!" the lion began, his deep voice ringing through the room with no effort. "We have come together on this most joyous day to celebrate the binding of two hearts. Today, in a public affirmation of their love, Peter, High King of Narnia, and Krisalyn, Lady of Archenland, will claim each other as husband and wife. With this affirmation, the ties between the peoples of Narnia and Archenland will be closer than ever before."

Aslan turned his gaze on Krisalyn. "Lady Krisalyn, you have chosen to bind yourself to High King Peter and to claim him as your husband. Will you remain true to him, in all trials and blessings that your lives may bring, and use your love for him to enrich both of your lives to the fullness of your ability?"

Krisalyn nodded. "I swear so to do."

Aslan nodded. "Make your personal vow to Peter."

Krisalyn turned her gaze back to Peter. "Peter, you have been my rock of strength for this past year. I have no doubt that I was meant to meet you and to fall in love with you. I had heard stories of your kindness, bravery, and faithfulness, but in the time I have known you, I have found that not even the stories reveal the full truth. You are all of those things and so much more, and it is the deepest desire of my heart to bind myself to you as wife, if that be your desire."

Aslan turned to Peter. "High King Peter, you have chosen to bind yourself to Lady Krisalyn and to claim her as your wife. Will you remain true to her, in all trials and blessings that your lives may bring, and use your love for her to enrich both of your lives to the fullness of your ability? Will you cherish her and her love and use all your strength to protect her?"

Peter looked into Krisalyn's eyes before raising his own to meet Aslan, allowing the great lion to read his answer there. "I swear so to do."

"Make your personal vow to your lady."

Peter took a deep breath. What could he say to this lady? "My lady Krisalyn, there are no words to describe how much I love you. From the moment that I met you, you touched something deep inside my heart, something I knew I wanted and yet could not put words to. You have brought love and laughter to my life, a different kind of love and laughter than that which I share with my royal siblings, and for that I thank you. I choose, on this day, before these witnesses, to accept your vow of love and take you as my wife, and ask that you accept my vow and claim me as your husband."

Aslan looked to Krisalyn's brother. "Bring forth the ring."

The young lord stepped forward and offered the ring to his sister, who took it and slid it carefully onto Peter's finger. The sapphires gleamed in the light, a sharp contrast to the rest of his outfit, but matching perfectly with the young King's eyes.

Aslan looked to Edmund. "Bring forth the ring."

Edmund stepped forward and offered Peter the ring he was carrying. Peter picked it up and slid it onto his bride's finger. The gold glistened in the sunlight and the light caught the ruby, lighting it up with a fierce flame.

Aslan spoke again, this time to all. "As King above all Kings in Narnia, it is my great honor to witness these vows and affirm that they are truly made from the heart, not for the sake of convenience. With this public affirmation, and the exchanging of the tokens you have chosen, it is my honor to declare that you are now sworn husband and wife."

Everyone burst into applause and Aslan looked at Peter, giving him a small wink, so swift no one else noticed. "Now I give you leave to seal your union, High King Peter."

Peter took the invitation and leaned forward, catching Krisalyn's lips with his own and sharing a gentle kiss as the applause and cheers grew louder and more raucous. As he slowly drew back, he smiled a slow smile at the blush on her face.

Aslan wasn't finished however, and he spoke again, drawing the crowd to a hush. "By all customs, the marriage of the High King will not be complete until his Lady has been made his Queen." The lion turned to Krisalyn. "Lady Krisalyn, do you this day swear to make Narnia your home and to honor it in your heart as you honor your husband? Will you rule beside your husband, helping him to make the decisions that will secure Narnia's future? Do you swear to follow the laws and customs established by myself at the Dawn of Time?"

Krisalyn dropped into a low curtsy as she looked up at Aslan. "I do so swear to keep Narnia in my heart and in my mind, to make it my own, and to assist my King in making the decisions that best benefit its people and to obey the laws and customs established at the Dawn of Time."

Aslan rumbled softly and Lucy stepped forward, a silver crown in her hands. Like Lucy's and Susan's crowns, it was made to resemble a wreath of flowers, in this case, lilies and irises in both white and yellow gold. The youngest Queen stepped forward and placed the crown on Krisalyn's head.

Aslan spoke. "Rise, Krisalyn the Steadfast, Queen of Narnia."


	2. Chapter 1: Loss and Desperation

_A/N: Here we go with another chapter! Please read and review!_

_**Chapter One: Loss and Desperation**_

_Nine years later…Western Woods…_

"These aren't branches," Peter muttered as he brushed against something soft.

"Oh! Ow!" Edmund grunted as he bumped into Susan.

"They're coats," Susan murmured softly.

"Susan, you're on my foot!" Edmund yelled, shoving her slightly, trying to make room.

"Peter, move off!" Lucy cried.

"Stop shoving, Lu," Peter called.

"Stop it. I'm not on your toe!" Edmund called as they continued to push their way forward as the coats grew thicker. A small sliver of light ahead of them grew steadily brighter.

With a grunt, Peter suddenly fell forward and hit the ground on his hands and knees. Lucy tumbled out right behind him and almost tripped on him, and just behind her were Susan and Edmund. They lay on the floor for several moments, coughing and trying to catch their breath, before they slowly sat up.

Peter looked at their surroundings. They were in a large, empty room with plastered walls and exposed wood beams. The floor beneath their feet was dusty, and the only article of furniture in the room was a large wardrobe. Peter glanced down at himself, momentarily confused, as he saw that instead of the rich velvet and leather riding gear he had been wearing a moment ago, he was now wearing a coarser button down shirt and suspenders, with rough cotton pants. His brother and sisters were similarly attired, and to his shock, they looked as if they had suddenly grown younger. He reached up and felt his face, his eyes slowly widening in horror as he realized that his beard had vanished and his hair had shortened almost magically.

"No…oh, Aslan, no," Peter murmured, leaping to his feet and racing towards the wardrobe. He climbed inside and shoved the coats aside, only to encounter the solid back of the wardrobe. "No…Kris…Aslan…"

"Peter?" Susan asked, rising to her feet and looking at her brother, who was now pounding his fists on the back of the wardrobe. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?!" Peter asked, looking over his shoulder. "Susan, what do you think? Have you forgotten about my wife!? She's still in Narnia! Why can't I get through?!" He continued to hammer at the wardrobe.

Susan and Edmund both grabbed Peter and hauled him out of the wardrobe. He fought them both fiercely, but they managed to pull him out after much effort. He struggled against them. "I have to get back through!" He was bucking and kicking out, and after several seconds, broke free again. This time, he ran around the outside of the wardrobe and squeezed behind it, pounding at the walls of the room itself.

Lucy ran up to Peter and shoved him from the side, pushing him out from behind the wardrobe and sending him sprawling back to the ground. She squeezed out from behind the wardrobe and pinned him down by sitting on his legs as she reached out and grabbed his face, her smaller hands giving her a moment's pause before she pushed the thought aside and forced him to look at her. "Peter, calm down before you hurt yourself!" she cried.

Susan and Edmund joined her and between the three of them they managed to get him restrained. But Peter continued to fight his siblings' hold on him for several more moments, before he finally seemed to see Lucy kneeling in front of him. "This is your fault! Why did you lead us back?" he yelled, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Lucy reeled back as if he had slapped her. Her dark eyes were wide and filled with tears. Peter had never yelled at her. But there was so much anger in his voice now.

As Lucy backed off, Peter slumped over, sobbing. Deep, wracking sobs were wrenched from his throat and tears streamed down his face, leaving hard-edged runnels across his cheekbones. He began to shake violently, and pulled tightly into himself, as if he was trying to hide from them. His siblings looked on in confusion, not understanding why he was so upset.

Susan knelt at his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Peter, what's wrong? There's more to this than leaving Krisalyn behind, isn't there?"

He looked up at her, the tears still flowing down his cheeks.

"Peter, we can't help you unless you talk to us," Edmund added, joining his older sister and brother, and laying his hand on Peter's other shoulder.

Peter looked between his siblings and swallowed, trying to choke back his tears so he could speak. He tried several times to form the words, but they wouldn't come. Finally, he managed to force words past the strangling lump in his throat. "Before we left on the hunt, Kris had news for me," he began quietly.

_Mr. Tumnus had brought word from the Western Wood that the White Stag had been seen roaming in the area. According to all the legends and lore, the Stag would grant wishes to anyone who captured him. It sounded like a great adventure to Edmund and Peter, and it hadn't taken a lot of effort to convince Susan and Lucy to come along, although Krisalyn had declined._

_As the others prepared the horses for the trip, Peter sought out his wife and found her in the library working on some plans for the next holiday festival. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, dropping a kiss onto her hair. He couldn't believe it, but he loved her more with every passing day. They had been married for nine years now, and everyday brought new joys and new blessings to both of them._

_Of course, those nine years had also brought pain and tragedy to both of them. Some of it, Peter didn't like to think about, even now. Other parts…well, that pain came from things like injuries, long periods of separation while Peter was away on military campaigns, and the regular duties and responsibilities that came with being rulers of a country._

_Krisalyn twisted in her seat and reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning up for a deeper kiss. As they parted, Peter smiled warmly down at her. "Are you sure that you don't want to come with us on the hunt, my lady?" he asked quietly._

_Krisalyn smiled back at him and shook her head gently. "I would like to, my lord, but it would not be a wise decision at this time."_

_He frowned slightly, not sure what she meant. "Krisalyn, are you well? I don't have to go with Ed, Susan, and Lucy. If you need me to stay, I will."_

_Krisalyn pressed a finger to his lips. "I'm well, Peter. I have just received wonderful news, however, and I don't want to take any chances this time."_

_Peter's frown deepened, but his heart began to pound a little harder in his chest, wondering if she meant what he thought she did. There was only one event in their lives that she could be referring to. "Kris, what are you saying?"_

"_I spoke to the healers yesterday, Peter. They've confirmed that I am pregnant."_

All three of Peter's siblings reeled back at that news. "A baby?" Lucy whispered. She knew…they all knew…how much Peter and Krisalyn had wanted to start a family of their own. They had been trying for a long time, but bad luck and ill timing had seemed to constantly plague the two of them and thus far they had been unsuccessful.

"Oh, Peter…" Susan whispered, leaning forward and folding her brother into her arms, pulling his head back so that it rested on her shoulder. Her hand brushed through his hair as he began weeping into her shoulder again, his body shaking again at the outpouring of his emotions. Edmund laid a hand on Peter's shoulder again, squeezing it tightly, not knowing how to comfort him.

Lucy stared at her older brother, whom she had only seen cry once before, at Beruna when they thought that Edmund was going to die. His tears then had been tears of relief when her cordial had worked and Edmund had been healed instantly. After a moment, she realized that she couldn't take the sight of the pain and anguish on his face and she leapt to her feet, running out of the room and nearly barreling into an elderly, white-haired man who was just entering.

"Oh!" he exclaimed as the little girl raced past him. Before he could stop her, she was gone, running down the hallway. He looked after her for a moment, before turning his attention to the three children still in the room. "There you are!" His eyes took in the tableau in front of him and his voice trailed off for a moment. He walked over to stand behind Susan. "But what is wrong?" he asked, seeing the distraught boy on the floor. He frowned and knelt beside them, with some difficulty. "Are you injured, young one?"

Susan shook her head. "Only his heart, Professor."

Professor Kirke looked at Susan and then allowed his gaze to travel to the open door of the wardrobe. An odd expression that she couldn't read crossed his face. "What were you all doing in the wardrobe?"

Susan and Edmund looked at each other for a long moment. Finally Edmund looked up at the older man. "You wouldn't believe us if we told you, sir," the younger boy replied.

A secretive, knowing smile crossed Professor Kirke's face. "Try me."

Edmund and Susan exchanged Looks over Peter's sobbing, trembling form. Finally, Edmund nodded. "We'll tell you everything, sir, but first we need to get Peter into a bed. He needs rest."

Professor Kirke nodded and rose to his feet before helping Susan and Edmund pull Peter to his feet. Peter had finally stopped crying, but his trembling had grown worse, and he was almost catatonic. Together, the three of them moved Peter out of the room and into the bedroom he shared with Edmund. Then, while Susan and the Professor waited in the hallway, Edmund managed to get Peter out of his clothes and into clean sleep-wear, before helping him into bed and pulling a blanket over his shoulders.

Edmund sighed and leaned down to kiss Peter's forehead. "I'm sorry, Peter," he whispered to his unresponsive sibling. "But I swear we'll do everything we can to help you find your way back to Kris and Narnia and your child. Rest now."

Backing away from the bed, he slipped into the small sitting room that joined his and Peter's room with the room Susan and Lucy shared. While he'd been taking care of Peter, Susan had gone in search of Lucy, and now his younger sister sat pressed against Susan's side, absolute guilt and misery on her face.

Edmund moved over and knelt in front of the sofa, looking Lucy in the eyes. "Lucy, no matter what Peter said, it wasn't your fault. You had no way of knowing what would happen and you didn't lead us out deliberately."

Susan nodded in agreement and stroked Lucy's forehead. "Ed's right, Lu. Peter's just upset. He'll realize it wasn't your fault once he's calmed down."

Lucy sniffled, but nodded. There was still some guilt in her eyes though, and Edmund knew that until she talked to Peter about it and had a chance to get him to forgive her, she'd still feel guilty.

Edmund rose to his feet and took a seat in one of the armchairs next to the Professor. The elderly man had pulled out his pipe and lit it, and looked quite comfortable and ready to hear the whole story. Edmund sighed and buried his head in his hands for a moment. "Where should we start?"

"The beginning is usually the best place," the Professor replied serenely, although Edmund noticed that his eyes were alight with excitement, and that had him wondering…what did he already know or suspect?

"The beginning..." Edmund muttered, before raising his head and looking at the elderly gentleman. "I guess it all starts with the hide and seek game from…" he shook his head, trying to comprehend it all. "From the other day. Lucy decided to hide in the wardrobe…"

* * *

_In his dream he flew back to her side._

_Cair Paravel was just ahead of him, but the angle he was seeing it from was unusual. He was seeing the palace from above, as if he was flying through the blue skies, instead of as if he was walking or riding up to the gates. He frowned and looked down and spotted Oreius and a small contingent of guards approaching the castle, leading his and his siblings' horses up to the palace._

_The gates were opened and as he drifted closer he could hear murmurs of surprise and distress from the people gathered in the courtyard. He spotted Kris standing at the top of the steps leading into the palace, and he somehow drifted down to her side, although she didn't seem to realize that he was there._

"_General Oreius, what happened?" she breathed, hurrying down the steps with Peter right beside her._

_The general dipped a bow to his Queen and gave her a solemn look. "We found their horses abandoned in the middle of the woods, Your Majesty. There was no sign of them, and there was no sign that they had taken any of their gear with them. All of their provisions are still accounted for. It was as if they had simply vanished."_

_Krisalyn's hand went to her mouth. "There was no sign of a struggle?" she asked, her voice slightly shaky, as if she was trying to maintain control._

_Oreius shook his head. "No, my lady. The horses were ground tethered, so if Their Majesties dismounted, they did so of their own free will. The tracks went off into the woods and we followed them as far as we could before they just disappeared."_

_Krisalyn swallowed nervously, and every eye in the courtyard turned to her. Peter frowned and reached out to touch her shoulder, only to stare in shock as his hand passed right through her. She didn't even react to the gesture. Moving around to stand in front of her, he looked her straight in the eyes. "Krisalyn, I'm right here. Nothing happened to us." He tried to enfold her in his arms, but again he simply passed right through her._

"_Dear Aslan…what is happening to me?" he whispered in shock as once again she didn't respond to him at all._

_After several moments of silence, Krisalyn raised her voice to be heard by all. "Until we know more, we must assume that they are still out there. We'll prepare search parties immediately. They must be found."_

_Murmurs of agreement came from everyone assembled and Krisalyn turned to Oreius. "General, I leave it in your hands to arrange the search parties. They wouldn't abandon their responsibilities or their people, so something must have happened to them. Find them. Bring them home."_

_Oreius bowed again. "Of course, Your Majesty."_

_As everyone began to disband, Peter followed Krisalyn back into the palace and up to the chambers that he shared with her. He called her name repeatedly, trying to get a reaction from her, but she ignored him completely. Once inside their room, she walked straight over to the dressing table and sat on the low stool. One hand found her womb and the other reached out and brushed across a necklace hanging from a small rack full of jewelry. He recognized the pendant. He had given it to her just a few days before they left for the hunt when they celebrated their ninth anniversary. It was a beautiful, flawless amethyst cut in the shape of a rose with emeralds making up the stem of the flower._

"_Peter, be safe…come back to me. Come back to us," she whispered softly as she stared at the necklace before her gaze shifted to the mirror and her own face._

"_Kris, I'm here!" Peter called, but got no response as everything began to fade away. "No! Kris, I'm right here! Aslan, please!"_

* * *

"After they met, Peter and Krisalyn were almost inseparable. Within the year, they were married," Edmund continued, finally getting to the part of the story that would explain Peter's distress to Professor Kirke. "They were married for nine years…in fact, they had just celebrated their anniversary a few days ago."

Professor Kirke nodded and puffed on his pipe. "And they truly loved each other?"

Susan nodded. "Very much. The shock of finding ourselves back here was…_is_ bad enough for the three of us, but Peter left his wife behind, and…" here she hesitated for a moment. "We weren't aware of this until we found ourselves upstairs, but Peter told us that Krisalyn had just told him that she was pregnant."

The Professor exhaled sharply, understanding. "This was their first?"

All three Pevensies nodded.

The elderly man sighed and nodded for them to continue their story. Edmund picked up where he had left off, briefly telling about the nine years that they had ruled after Peter and Krisalyn were married. Finally he concluded, "Just a few days ago…" he shook his head, "That seems so odd to say since no time has passed here since we left." He sighed before continuing. "Just a few days ago, Mr. Tumnus had brought word of the White Stag's return. All the legends say that the Stag grants wishes to the one who catches him. It had been some time since we had a chance to simply relax, so the four of us decided to set out on a hunt. Krisalyn declined to come along, which we thought was a little odd, since she's as daring a rider as the rest of us, but Peter just told us she wasn't feeling up to it this time. Well, we know why now, but he didn't seem concerned, so we didn't press the subject."

"Actually," Susan interjected, "if anything, Peter seemed even happier than he had been in days, and again, we know why now. We didn't think anything of it, because we were so happy to see him so cheerful."

Lucy and Edmund nodded in agreement before Lucy took up the story. "It didn't take us long to locate the Stag once we reached the area where he had last been seen. We chased him all through the woods, and we were gaining on him when Edmund suddenly stopped to catch his breath. We came back for him, and that's when Peter noticed a lamp-post growing from the ground."

_That_ brought a small smile to the Professor's face, and for a moment he seemed lost in thought. After a moment, he nodded for them to continue.

"We dismounted and stood there gazing up at it, trying to figure out why it looked so familiar to us. Lucy suddenly said something - 'Spare Oom', I think - and ran off into the trees. We followed her, and the next thing we knew, we were back here," Edmund concluded.

Professor Kirke puffed on his pipe for a few moments, apparently deep in thought. The three siblings waited to see what he would say. Thus far, he had been completely unsurprised by anything they had told him, and they wanted to know why.

"I envy the four of you," he said abruptly. "For you had many years in Narnia, while I did not."

It was one thing to suspect that the Professor had known of Narnia before hand, but it was quite another to hear it confirmed with their own ears. The three of them exchanged glances before Susan spoke. "You've been to Narnia, Professor?"

"Many years ago, yes. When I was a young boy, a friend and I entered Narnia at its creation."

_That_ drew a breath of surprise from the three Pevensies and again they exchanged glances.

"Now I suppose I should tell you _my_ story," he continued, puffing on his pipe for a moment as he turned his gaze out the window, lost in his memories.

* * *

_Peter's bedroom…_

"Kris!" he called as he woke with a start. He bolted upright, breathing heavily, trembling with reaction to the dream. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to calm his trembling. As his tremors slowed, he frowned, wondering why his wife hadn't woken and enfolded him into her arms as she always did when he had a particularly intense dream or nightmare.

Opening his eyes, he looked around his bedchamber, only to feel his heart race as he realized he was in a strange room. This wasn't their room in Cair Paravel. "Kris?" he whispered, reaching to his left to wake her, unsure why she hadn't already woken. "Kris, where are we?"

His hand only touched the sheet and blankets, not his wife's shoulder. He frowned and looked over to his left, only to see that no one was there. Wondering if they had perhaps switched sides of the bed for some reason, he looked to his right, but he was alone in the bed.

_Alone_…suddenly the memory came crashing back down on his conscious mind. Kris wasn't here. He wasn't in Narnia and she was. He was back in England, and he was once again a sixteen-year old boy, instead of a thirty-one-year old man – King - with a wife and a child on the way.

"Oh Aslan…why? Why did we have to leave?" he whispered, burying his face in his hands and resisting the urge to sob. His eyes felt dry and swollen from the weeping that he had done earlier and he rubbed them as they began to itch.

Low voices caught his attention, and after a couple of false starts he managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed and rise to his feet. He moved towards the door and cracked it open slightly. It took him only a moment to recognize his sister's voice.

"And all of this was happening right outside your Uncle's house?" Lucy asked.

"Oh yes, my dear. I didn't know what to do, but something told me I couldn't let it continue." This voice belonged to an elderly man that Peter vaguely recognized, although he couldn't remember the man's name at the moment. "I remembered the rings in my pocket and I somehow fought my way through the crowd with Polly and managed to grab her sleeve as I slipped the ring onto my finger."

Peter quietly closed the door on Professor Kirke's voice. _That's his name. Professor Kirke. We were staying with him because of the fighting. Now I remember._ Unfortunately, the new memories only brought more aches to his heart, because they were a reminder that Krisalyn was still in Narnia and he was here. "I have to get back to her," Peter whispered to himself. "She's waiting for me. She needs me. Our baby will need me."

Looking around the room, he spotted another door and tip-toed across the room to it. Easing it open, he was relieved to see that it opened into a hallway, not the sitting room where his siblings and the Professor were talking. He slipped out into the hall, grateful that, despite the fact that he was sixteen again, his body and mind still retained all the memories of how to move quietly and gracefully to avoid detection.

He listened to make sure he hadn't been heard, and then moved down the hallway in the direction of the room that held the wardrobe. He had to get back to Narnia and his wife.

* * *

"So you brought the apple back to your mother?" Edmund asked.

Professor Kirke nodded. "I fed it to her, and within a month, she had completely recovered. I buried the core of the apple out in the garden behind my Uncle's house, along with the magic rings that had taken us to the Wood, as Aslan asked of us. Within one day it had already begun to blossom into a beautiful tree."

The Professor sighed, remembering. "It was about that time that we received word that my Great-Uncle had died and left all of his inheritance to my father. We moved into this estate, and I have lived here ever since. Polly and I have remained friends to this day."

"What of the tree?" Lucy asked, interested.

"Ah, the tree," the Professor said, puffing on his pipe for a moment. "Because this is not Narnia, it was never a fully magical tree, despite its extremely fast growth. But the apples that blossomed from it were always rich and delicious, and very beautiful. Sometimes, though, it seemed there was a connection between that tree and the Tree in Narnia, because at times, when no wind blew, the branches would move on their own. Many years later, however, a fierce storm blew the tree over, so I had some of the timber made into a wardrobe and placed upstairs in this house."

All three Pevensies gasped. "_That's_ where the wardrobe comes from then!" Edmund exclaimed.

"And it's still connected to Narnia…that's how we got through!" Lucy added.

The Professor nodded.

Susan glanced out the window and realized that it was now growing dark. "Oh dear…we need to check on Peter. We've left him alone for a long time."

"I'll check, Su," Edmund offered, rising to his feet and moving towards the room that he shared with Peter. He cracked the door open slowly, not wanting to wake his brother if Peter was still asleep, but there was no sound from inside the room. Edmund pushed the door open further, only to see an empty bed. He stepped inside quickly and searched the room, making sure that Peter hadn't fallen out of bed and hurt himself or something. The room was empty.

Edmund hurried back into the sitting room. "Peter's gone."

"What!" his sisters chorused.

Edmund frowned grimly. "He must have gone out the door leading into the hallway. He's going to try to get back through the wardrobe. I'll go get him."

The Professor rose to his feet. "No, young man. I'll go."

Edmund paused and looked at him curiously. "Sir, with all due respect, this is our brother."

Professor Kirke nodded. "And that is why you shouldn't go. You're too close to the situation. I have been away from Narnia for many years. I know what it is like to have to live in this world after being there. Although my time in Narnia was short, I still remember every detail to this day, and I still want to go back. Your brother needs to know that he can live in this world, and he can make a good life for himself here, as I did."

Edmund studied the elderly man for a moment, seeing the sincerity and the honesty in his eyes, before nodding and stepping back, away from the door. Professor Kirke moved towards the door and stepped out into the hallway, in search of the missing High King.

* * *

Peter had made it back to the spare room without getting caught, and now he stood in front of the wardrobe. Reaching out, he took hold of the knob and pulled the door open. He stepped inside and began to push the coats aside, expecting any minute to see pine branches and fallen leaves. Instead, to his dismay, he only saw the back of the wardrobe. He slumped to his knees inside the wardrobe and banged a fist on the wooden boards.

"Aslan, please…I need to go back to Narnia. Please, I am begging you," he whispered, not even sure if the great lion could hear him or not.

"I don't think you'll get back in that way," another voice said quietly.

Peter leaped to his feet and spun around to see the Professor standing in the room, looking at him with sympathy in his gaze. The old man approached the wardrobe and pulled the door open so he could meet Peter's gaze directly.

"But I must," Peter whispered. "My wife, our baby…"

Professor Kirke shook his head. "There is nothing you can do about it now, young man. Sometimes, we must simply accept what we are handed. I too have been to Narnia, and wish to return. I've tried, many, many times. Eventually, I came to accept that it was not to be, and I've formed my life here as a result."

Peter hung his head. "But how can I go on, knowing what I left behind?"

The older man frowned. "Aslan knows what is best, for you, and for Narnia. If you were meant to remain in Narnia forever, you would not have been returned here. There is something here you must do, just as you were called into Narnia to save her from Jadis, to remedy my mistake."

Peter looked up at that, in confusion, but the elderly man didn't answer the question burning in his eyes. Instead, he simply reached out a wrinkled hand to Peter. "Come. Your brother and sisters worry for you. You have the help you need in them to adjust to what has happened, if you accept what they offer freely."

Peter hung his head again and whispered one last prayer to Aslan, that the mighty lion would hear him and take him back to Krisalyn's side. When nothing happened, he took the offered hand and allowed the Professor to help him to his feet and to lead him out of the wardrobe. As Professor Kirke closed the door of the wardrobe, he looked up at the older man. "Will we ever go back?"

Kirke nodded. "I expect so. But it'll probably happen when you're not looking for it. After all, once a King or Queen in Narnia, always a King or Queen." As he and Peter headed out of the room, he paused and looked back at the wardrobe for a moment, before leaning in towards Peter as if sharing a confidence. "All the same, best to keep your eyes open."

_A/N: Please, please, please read and review! The reviews make my day!_


	3. Chapter 2: Haunting Memories

_Author's Note:  Here's the next chapter everyone!  Also, on a side note: my friend Gwenneth, whose story "To War" inspired this one, has begun posting the sequel to "To War" and it is entitled "To Defend and Protect".  Check it out and drop her a review!_

_**Chapter Two: Haunting Memories**_

Peter and the Professor entered the room where Edmund, Susan, and Lucy were waiting. As they entered, the other three stood up and walked over to their brother and embraced him, quietly lending their support to him. He accepted it with a desperate need that nearly broke their hearts. He had never seemed as vulnerable as he did now, and it was an odd sensation for the younger three, who were used to Peter giving them the support when they needed it, instead of having to support him.

All of them were weary, but Peter especially appeared exhausted and as they broke apart, the Professor spoke quietly. "All of you should get some rest. It has been a most trying day. I'll have trays of dinner sent up for you."

"Thank you, sir," Susan said softly. "We appreciate all of your help."

The Professor smiled slightly. "Keep holding on to faith, children. Aslan knows best. You must believe it."

Lucy nodded. "We do, sir. Aslan has never let us down before."

With that, Professor Kirke left the room and Edmund and Susan turned to Peter. "Can we do anything, Pete?" Susan asked, her voice soft and gentle.

Peter looked at her with weary eyes. "No, I'm afraid not, Su. Somehow…somehow I have to accept what has happened, and pray that the Professor is right and that Aslan has a purpose for allowing this to happen." His voice was dull and his eyes had lost a great deal of their spark.

Edmund sighed and rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Come on, Peter. Let's get you to bed. We've all had a long day, but you more than any of us. A good night's sleep will do wonders for you."

Peter's gaze shifted from Susan to Edmund. "No, I don't think it will, Ed." He tried to offer a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "But it was a nice thought."

* * *

_The next morning…_

"How would you feel about helping me out with a little project, young ones?" the Professor asked the next morning.

Lucy and Susan looked up from their breakfasts with interest. "What kind of a project did you have in mind, Professor?" Lucy asked.

"I've been working on a history of different families in this region. My family has a long history in this area. There are some old maps and family trees that I located years ago and have been storing in the attic. I'm at a point in my research where I need to consult them again. Would you be willing to assist me in locating them?"

The girls nodded eagerly as did Edmund, although Peter shook his head negatively. "No, thank you, Professor. It sounds interesting, but I don't feel up to it today," Peter replied diplomatically. As the Professor left the room after agreeing to meet Edmund, Susan, and Lucy in the attic in about an hour, Peter turned his attention back to his food.

Edmund watched his brother, concern welling up inside of him as Peter picked at his breakfast. The eldest Pevensie had barely touched his dinner the previous night before going to bed early. Fortunately, he had slept soundly all night, which was a bit of a relief to Edmund, but he didn't like the despondency he was seeing. They all missed Narnia, and yes, Peter had more reason than the rest of them to miss it and want to go back, but dwelling on what he had lost was not going to help him adjust.

Edmund just didn't know how to help his brother, other than being there to support him, and it was depressing him.

Forcing a smile onto his face, Edmund tapped his brother's shoulder. When Peter turned his dull, blue gaze to him, he repressed a shudder. "What do you say, Pete? Why don't we finish that cricket game that we started fifteen years ago? Or yesterday…I'm not sure which is more appropriate, but I believe it was my turn."

Peter shook his head. "No, thanks, Ed. I'm not in the mood today." Pushing his food around one last time, he finally set his spoon down and shoved his chair away from the table. Rising to his feet, he headed out of the dining room towards the stairs that would take him up to the sitting room that was part of their suite.

Edmund rose to his feet, intending to go after his brother, but Susan shook her head. "Let him go, Ed. He needs time to grieve."

Edmund looked at his sister. "Krisalyn isn't dead."

"No, but she is out of reach for the time being, and we have no way of knowing when or if we'll get back to Narnia. From Peter's perspective, she is as good as dead, because until we go back, they won't be together."

Edmund sighed. "I hate seeing him like this, Su."

"I know, Ed. I do too," his older sister replied. "But there's nothing we can do except to try to be there for him and offer him support, a listening ear, and a shoulder to cry on if he needs it."

"Poor Peter," Lucy whispered. "Haven't he and Kris been through enough?"

Susan nodded at her sister. "Probably, Lu. But we have to trust that Aslan knows best, just like the Professor said."

* * *

Peter wandered over to the window seat and sank down onto it, slumping over so that he was leaning against the wall. He stared out the window at the beautiful spring day, but for all that he saw it, it could have been pouring down rain and he wouldn't have noticed the difference.

_Oh Kris…how am I going to do this? How can I just go back to my life here after everything I've…we've been through? I grew up once already. I was an adult, a leader, and I was about to be a father…and now I have to do it all over again? Will I have to find someone else to take your place? NO! No, Kris…I will not forget you like that! I'll never love someone else the way that I love you._

Peter sighed heavily and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall and drawing his knees up to his chin. In his mind's eye he could see Kris standing on the stairs leading to the Cair's courtyard, her brilliant eyes sparkling with happiness as she waved good-bye, expecting that she would see them in a few days. How could she have known that they would be parted forever?

He should never have gone on the hunt. He should have stayed with Kris after she told him the news about their baby. Why had he listened to her insistence that he join the others on the hunt? He could be at the Cair right now, making plans for the baby, helping Kris to pick out a name…simply celebrating that they would finally have the family that they had wanted for so long.

True, he might also now be wondering about what had happened to his siblings, but it was also possible that they would have returned without a problem. After all, he had turned their attention to the lamppost. Lucy might have led them back, but the others hadn't even noticed the lamppost, so covered in ivy and vines as it had been. They would probably have ridden right past it in pursuit of the Stag.

_Why was I such an idiot?_ he wondered to himself. _Kris is going to need me…she needed me before…and now I've lost her._

The pain at that thought stabbed through him, and involuntarily, his thoughts drifted to one time when he had thought for sure that he was going to lose his wife.

_The rain was coming down harder than ever. Normally during the winter rains, they would have holed up in Cair Paravel and waited the storms out. The storms were fierce, but they usually only lasted a few weeks at the beginning and the end of winter. But no…they were returning from a visit to Archenland, where they had gone to celebrate the birth of King Lune's heirs, twin boys named Cor and Corin._

_It was still late autumn, and they had left Anvard in plenty of time to reach Cair Paravel before the winter rains started, except that this year they seemed to have come early for some reason. They were less than an hour from the Cair, and they had all decided, jointly, that it was better to ride in the wet and get home sooner than to waste time setting up camp and getting soaked anyway and delaying their return._

_Of course, they hadn't planned on riding into the teeth of the storm, either. Normally the storms came in from the East and blew straight across Narnia, but this one was coming in from the North and blowing due South. As a result, it was a _cold_ rain. If this had truly been winter, they might have been riding into a snowstorm, instead of a rainstorm. All they could do was make sure that their hoods were pulled over their faces, bend their heads into the wind, and keep going._

_The path beneath them was already a thick mud soup, and the squelching noise of the horses' hooves sinking into it was almost lost over the continuously rumbling thunder. "I can see the gates!" Peter yelled, trying to make himself heard over the storm. But from the expression on his siblings' and wife's faces, he knew they hadn't heard him. So he waved his hand to get their attention and made a signal that they would all recognize as "Almost home". That got nods from the others and they urged their horses forward._

_Half an hour later, the horses entered the courtyard of Cair Paravel and attendants swarmed around the travelers, helping them to dismount, throwing dry cloaks and blankets over their shoulders, grabbing their gear, and leading the horses into the stables. Peter and his family raced inside the palace, where Mr. Tumnus was waiting for them._

"_Your Majesties, I am very relieved to see you, although I would have expected you to stop and make camp when the storm came up," the faun said, looking at his soaked monarchs, all of whom looked like drowned rats._

_Peter accepted a towel from one of the servants and began vigorously rubbing his hair dry. "The storm didn't reach us until we were two hours out from home, Tumnus. It would have taken more time to stop and set camp, and we would have gotten equally as soaked in the process."_

_Tumnus nodded in understanding. "Hot baths have been drawn for all of you, and I've ordered the beds heated with hot bricks and the fires lit. I'll have the servants bring you a hot meal."_

_Edmund shivered. "Oh, that sounds wonderful, Tumnus. Thank you."_

_Tumnus bowed slightly. "My pleasure, King Edmund."_

_Together, the weary group of monarchs headed up the stairs that led to their private chambers._

Peter smiled weakly, remembering how ridiculous they had all looked, soaked to the bone, hair dripping and making puddles on the marble floors. They could laugh about it now, since they had looked so ridiculous, but at the time it had not been amusing.

Remembering that event brought more memories to his mind, and they weren't as pleasant, since the aftermath of that little adventure had almost cost him more than he had ever imagined.

_Peter paced the hallway outside his chambers while the healer was inside the room. Edmund and his sisters stood with him, neatly stepping aside anytime he almost ran into them in his incessant pacing. They had already tried to get him to sit down and wait patiently, with no success. Edmund had even grabbed Peter's arm and shoved him into a chair, but Peter had only stayed seated for about five seconds before he was on his feet again._

_As a result of the unexpected drenching that they had all received a few days ago, Kris had come down with a serious cold. At least, they had thought that it was just a cold. The Queen had sighed and fussed, but stayed in bed and worked from there so as to get better more quickly. Unfortunately, her so-called "cold" had progressed to something much worse. Peter had come up to check on her a short time ago and found her curled up in the bed, shaking with cold and breathing in an alarmingly raspy way. He had immediately called for a healer, who had thrown him out after arriving so she could tend to the ill Queen._

_Now all he could do was wait, and it was driving him crazy. One part of his mind. the part that was still aware of everything going on around him, could tell that he was beginning to irritate his siblings, but they were doing their best not to say anything to him._

_Finally, just when Peter thought that he would break down the door if he had to wait any longer, the healer emerged from the room, pulling the door shut behind herself. "How is Krisalyn?" Peter demanded, stopping in front of the healer, his blue eyes boring into hers. "May I see her?"_

"_Your Majesty, please. I'll explain if you give me a moment," the healer, a centaur named Jana said, somewhat irritated._

_Peter backed off, although he was clenching his hands in an effort to resist the urge to storm past the healer and barge into his room to see his wife. Edmund, Susan, and Lucy all came up beside him and waited, each of them gripping one of Peter's arms or shoulders._

"_Your wife is stable, for now, Your Majesty, however, I will not lie to you. She is very ill,' Jana said quietly. "Her Majesty has pneumonia. She is going to have a very long recovery, and she might get worse before she gets better."_

_Peter swallowed nervously, feeling his siblings' hands grip him more tightly. "Is she…could she…die?"_

_Jana frowned reluctantly. "It's possible, but she was young and strong before she got ill, so I see it as very unlikely. If she rests and does exactly as instructed, I see little risk."_

_Peter let out a small breath of relief. "Thank you, Healer."_

_The centaur nodded. "I'll write down the instructions for your wife's care and leave them. You may see her now, but take care not to agitate her." With that, she stepped away from the door and Peter hurried over and eased it open, closing it behind himself as he stepped inside._

_The room was dim, most of the light coming from the fireplace that was blazing in the corner in an effort to ease Krisalyn's chills. The Queen was lying on their bed, propped in place by pillows to make her breathing easier, wrapped in blankets, with a tall glass of water on the table next to the bed to keep her hydrated._

_Peter edged over to the bed, trying not to disturb his wife if she was asleep, but she opened her eyes as he drew near and gave him a very weak smile. "Peter," she breathed softly, coughing slightly with the effort._

_He moved over to the bed and took a seat on the edge next to her, reaching out and gently running a hand through her long hair, which was slightly damp with perspiration from the fever. He leaned over and gently kissed her. "How are you feeling, love?"_

"_Horrible," she whispered._

_Peter reached down and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "You're going to be fine, Kris."_

"_I'd have to debate that with you, given the way I feel, if I had the strength," she whispered. She swallowed several times. "Peter…I just wanted…" she shook her head, and her eyes dimmed slightly, as if she was trying to find the words she wanted. "I just wanted to tell you how much I love you. You've meant so much to me…"_

_Peter laid a finger over her lips to keep her from continuing. "Don't you say good-bye, sweetheart. You're not going to die. Jana said that if you just rest and follow all of her instructions you'll be fine. I know you feel miserable, but you'll be fine, and soon enough you'll be sitting in court with me and helping Su and Lu plan the feasts and weddings."_

_Krisalyn coughed. "I…I need to say this, Peter. I was so frightened when I was having t…trouble breathing. I thought I was dying."_

_Peter squeezed her hand again. "I know, Kris. So did I. But you weren't and you're not going to, so just rest and get well." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I'm going to go and let you get some sleep, but I'll come and check on you later. One of the servants will be in every little while to check on you and bring you anything you need, all right?"_

_She nodded and Peter helped her slide down into a slightly more comfortable position that kept her propped up to ease her breathing, but not so upright that it was like she was sitting in bed. He rose to his feet as she settled in and pulled the blankets up to her chin before leaning down to kiss her again. "Sleep well, dearest."_

Peter sighed at the memory. That had been one of the times when he had been most afraid that he was going to lose his wife to something out of his control. There had only been one other time when he really thought…no, he wasn't going to even think about it. It was too painful a memory, especially now.

He gazed out the window again and sighed for a second time. He was doing a lot of sighing, he realized, but he couldn't exactly help it. He wasn't really in a cheerful mood. Looking back out the window, he watched a lark soaring past, some type of food in its beak. _Probably bringing it back to the nest_, Peter thought absently, before a sting of pain reminded him that he'd never get the chance to see his child and help to raise it,

_I can't go on like this. I'll drive myself crazy inside a day,_ Peter thought. _The Professor's right. I need to try to move on and accept what's happened…but it's so hard. I never thought I'd lose her like this…and I've also lost Narnia…_

He fisted his hands and pounded them on his knees for a moment, burying his face against his legs. Finally, he uncurled from the window seat and sighed. He rose to his feet and decided to go out and spend some time outside. It wasn't Narnia, but it was a beautiful day none-the-less.

Leaving the room, he headed down the hallway towards the stairs. As he passed through the halls, he noticed several old portraits on the wall and he paused in front of one that was near the head of the stairs so he could study it.

The woman that it depicted had a kind, serene face, with sparkling blue eyes. She was sitting in a formal pose, her hands in her lap, gracefully, her head turned towards the artist just so. The artist had been very good. The woman looked alive, not just a stiff mannequin like so many formal portraits.

Peter glanced over at the next painting and suddenly took a step backwards. _It can't be…Kris?_ He took another step back, then stepped slightly to the right to get a better view…only to feel empty air beneath his feet instead of solid ground.

* * *

Edmund coughed on a cloud of dust as he opened another old trunk, looking for the charts and maps that the Professor had asked for. A few feet away, Lucy and Susan were digging through another chest.

It was obvious that no one had been up here for years. There was all kinds of things up here. Edmund had already found trunks full of clothing, old, broken furniture, old farm implements, and more papers than he could have imagined.

The Professor wasn't sure where they would find the charts, although he did remember that they would all be bundled together, and he specifically remembered putting them in a box or a trunk. It wasn't much to go on, but the siblings were at least able to focus on the boxes and chests and could pretty much ignore the other items for the time being.

Edmund waved the cloud of dust away from his face and peered into the trunk. To his great relief, there was a rolled up tube of papers right on top. He unrolled them carefully, not sure how fragile they were, and saw that they were exactly what he was looking for. "I've got them! I'm going to take them down to the Professor."

Lucy and Susan had their heads close together as they rummaged through the chest they had just opened, but they nodded in acknowledgement. "Ok, Ed. We'll be down in a minute."

Edmund straightened up and headed for the attic door, taking several deep breaths once he was out of the room to get some clean air into his lungs. The Professor would be pleased.

Edmund came down the stairs from the top floor and turned towards the stairs that would take him to the Professor's study when he heard a yell and a crash. The yell was definitely young, and male…"Peter!" Edmund cried, racing down the stairs headlong.

_*begs readers to review*  I'm on my knees, folks...please, please, please review!!!_


	4. Chapter 3: First Aid

_**Chapter Three: First Aid**_

"Peter?" Edmund called as he ran down the hallway. "Peter! Are you all right?" He came to the main staircase without having received an answer from his brother. Looking around, he didn't see Peter. Then he looked towards the foyer and spotted Peter lying in a heap on the floor. "Peter!"

There was an answering groan from his brother and Edmund dropped the charts on the floor as he hurried down the stairs. He knelt at his brother's side and laid a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"That hurt," Peter muttered, slowly shaking his head as his eyes opened. He blinked up at his brother for a moment before trying to sit up. "Ouch!" he cried almost immediately, laying back against the marble floor.

"Peter? What's wrong?" Edmund asked, concerned.

"Ugh…I think I pulled a muscle in my back," Peter mumbled, closing his eyes as he tried to suppress the pain running down his back.

Edmund winced in sympathy. "Can you roll over? I'll check it for you."

Peter looked up at him and nodded slowly. Edmund gently slid his hands under Peter to help support him as, with a grunt of effort and pain, he managed to roll onto his side. Edmund frowned at the sight of his brother's shirt, which was shredded in several places. He could see blood on the edges, and with the utmost care, he gently pulled the fabric away from his brother's back.

Peter's back had several raw, slightly bleeding welts on it. None of them were serious, but they were long and red, so Edmund could imagine that when Peter tried to sit up he had caused the skin to pull and that had caused the pain.

Edmund gently pressed down on Peter's back, carefully avoiding the welts. "Does that hurt, Pete?"

Peter shook his head. It wasn't until Edmund gently touched one of the welts that he yelped. "Ed, that hurts! By the lion, _what_ are you doing?"

Edmund chuckled. "I think you'll live Peter. It looks like you just fell straight back and scraped your back up pretty well. I think if we can get you on your feet and into the loo to wash you up, you'll be fine." He rose to his feet and moved to stand next to his brother. Holding out his hands, he wiggled his fingers. "Give me your hands Pete. I'll pull you up."

Peter reached up and put his hands into Edmund's, wincing a little at the pull on his back, then, as Edmund began to pull, he got his feet under himself and with a grunt of pain and a suppressed yelp, managed to get to his feet. "By Aslan," he muttered, "that hurt."

Edmund frowned and looked up at the top of the stairs, before looking back at his brother. "Pete, how'd you manage to fall down here anyway? I don't think you've ever fallen down a flight of stairs in your life…even when we had to wear those ridiculous formal robes."

Peter looked up at the top of the stairs. "There's a painting up there…the woman in it looks like Kris…"

Edmund helped his brother up the stairs and as they reached the top, he looked at the picture Peter was referring to. He frowned. "Peter, that looks nothing like Kris."

Peter took another look and realized that Edmund was right. The woman in the picture had dark hair, but other than that, there was absolutely no similarity to his wife. The woman in the portrait had green eyes instead of Kris' brilliant violet, the shape of her face was all wrong, and she was at least ten years older than Kris. Flushing in embarrassment, Peter ducked his head. "I just caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye before I slipped."

Edmund sighed. "C'mon, Pete. Let's go and get you cleaned up." He led his brother down the hallway, pausing long enough to pick up the roll of charts that he had dropped. "I need to give these to the Professor first. Think you can get back to the room on your own? I'll be right there and I'll help you."

"Ed, I'm not a child," Peter said, sounding exasperated. "I'm not going to suddenly fall over."

Edmund glanced, pointedly, back towards the staircase. Peter frowned, but didn't debate the point.

As they reached the next corner, Peter turned off to the left, heading for their room, while Edmund headed down the right-hand hallway. He paused at the Professor's door and knocked. A muffled "Come in," sounded, and Edmund pushed the door open.

"Professor? Is this what you were looking for?" Edmund asked, walking over to the desk and laying the documents on the surface.

Professor Kirke picked up the documents and unrolled them, studying them for a moment before smiling at Edmund. "They are indeed. Thank you, young man."

"You're welcome, Professor," Edmund said with a smile, before turning and heading out the room. He was anxious to get back to Peter and help him get cleaned up. He hurried down the hallway and into their room, where he found Peter sitting on the edge of his bed, his shirt unbuttoned, although he seemed to be having difficulty actually removing it.

"Hang on, Pete," Edmund said, hurrying into the washroom and filling a shallow basin with water before grabbing some clean cloths and coming back into the room. Setting the bowl on the bedside table, he reached over and gently helped Peter ease the ruined shirt off his shoulders. He tapped Peter on the shoulder, indicating that he wanted him to turn around so that his back was to Edmund.

Peter adjusted his position and Edmund dipped a cloth in water, ringing it out and then gently running the cloth over Peter's back, cleaning out the gashes and washing the blood off. Peter stiffened under Edmund's gentle ministrations, and Ed muttered softly, "Easy, Peter. I'm almost done."

As he continued to wash Peter's back, Edmund's mind flashed to one other time when he had had to care for Peter like this. It didn't happen often, so the few times that it had were very vivid in his mind.

_Edmund watched from the corner of the room as the healers tended to Peter. __Earlier that day, the two Kings had been returning to the Cair after settling a dispute that required their physical presence and were riding along the cliff that overlooked the Eastern Sea__. Unbeknownst to them, the last series of winter thunderstorms had eroded part of the cliff and the added weight of the Narnian party had been enough to send a portion crashing down to the beach below -- taking Peter and his horse with it._

_Edmund had panicked and after backtracking quite a ways, their party had found a path that led down to the beach. The horses had picked their way down the path and then ridden as fast as he could back to where Peter had fallen._

_Peter had landed on some rocks and had broken his left leg and his right arm, as well as being covered with dozens of small abrasions and bruises. He had been unconscious when Edmund had found him, but had woken up soon after, which had eased some of Edmund's fears. Edmund had sent the rest of the party back to get some assistance in moving Peter, since they didn't have the supplies that they needed to get the High King back to Cair Paravel without further injuring him._

_It had taken several hours before the group had returned with a healer and the necessary equipment to get Peter home. Lucy and Susan were away in the Lantern Waste visiting Mr. Tumnus, otherwise they would have brought her back, along with her cordial. After much effort, they had managed to stabilize Peter for the trip back. The High King's horse had also been badly wounded, but thankfully it had been a Talking Horse and had been able to tell the rescuers exactly where it was hurting, so he too had been stabilized and transported back to the Cair for further care._

_Now, Edmund watched as they continued to minister to his brother. Their work was efficient and it wasn't long before they had Peter bandaged and splinted and resting on a bed. The High King was still in some pain, but the healers had given him several herbal infusions to help to ease the majority of the pain._

_As the healers finished their work, Edmund moved over from the corner where he had been waiting and came to stand next to his brother's bed. Peter was groggy and not entirely coherent, but he managed a wavering smile at Edmund. There were still traces of blood and dirt on his face and hands, although the healers had cleaned the majority of the wounds off._

"_Hey, Pete. How're you feeling?" Edmund asked quietly, reaching down and taking his brother's left hand in his own._

"_Not t' bad, Ed," Peter slurred, his voice thick with weariness and the influence of the medication._

"_You're a bit of a mess, Peter. Not very kingly-looking right now," Edmund teased his brother, knowing that as High King, Peter was always conscientious of his appearance. He looked around and spotted a basin and a pitcher of water sitting on a nearby table. Spotting one of the healers, he asked for a clean cloth. When the healer brought one to him, the younger King picked up the pitcher and filled the basin with water, bringing it back to Peter's bedside. Carefully, so as not to cause his brother any pain, he finished cleaning off the dried blood and dirt that had encrusted Peter's head, neck, and hands._

Edmund shook his head as he wiped the last of the blood off of Peter's back and ran a dry cloth over the skin. Returning to the washroom, he found some bandages and brought them back out to Peter. Carefully, he bound Peter's wounds, then found him a clean shirt to wear and helped him put it on so as not to aggravate the cuts. "There, you're all set, Peter."

Peter gazed up at his brother. "Thanks, Ed."

"You're welcome, Pete," Edmund replied quietly, before sitting down on the bed next to his brother. He hesitated. He and Peter had grown very close when they were in Narnia, but this sort of conversation was mostly foreign to him. "Peter…I can't begin to imagine what you're going through, but I just want you to know that I'm here. I mean…if you need to talk, or…"

Peter shook his head, stopping Edmund's words. "Ed, I appreciate the thought, but right now…I…I just need time to accept it."

Edmund sighed. "Ok, Peter. I understand. Just know that I'm here when you're ready.

* * *

Lucy coughed as she waved a dust cloud away from her face and opened an old, tattered, leather portfolio. She was careful, since the leather was very close to disintegrating in her hands.

Inside the portfolio was a neat pile of papers. They were stacked upside down, and she gently laid the portfolio on the floor before reaching over and picking up the first piece of paper.

She turned it over carefully so as not to tear it. She gently blew the dust off of it so she could make out what was written on the page. As the dust settled, she took another look.

It was a sketch, finely done, of one of the most beautiful apple trees that she'd ever seen. The branches were heavily laden with the luscious looking fruit. She put the page aside and picked up the next one.

The second page depicted a winged horse and two children riding on its back. They were in mid-flight, and the ground below them had been skillfully rendered so that it appeared that they were high above it.

"Susan…have a look at these," Lucy breathed softly. "I think they're sketches of Narnia."

"What?" Susan asked, turning to her younger sister.

"Look…I think this is the professor and his friend Polly on that winged horse Fledge," Lucy said. She picked up the first drawing again. "This must be the apple tree that Aslan sent him to find."

"These are exquisite," Susan breathed. "Let's take them downstairs and look at them in better light. The professor might want to see them again too."

Lucy nodded and carefully gathered up the papers and the portfolio. Susan helped her to her feet and the two girls headed down out of the attic and back towards their room.

As they entered the sitting room they heard Edmund talking from inside the boy's room. "There, you're all set, Peter."

"Thanks, Ed."

"You're welcome, Pete." The bed creaked, as if someone had just sat down on it. For a moment the conversation seemed to have stopped, but then Edmund spoke again. "Peter…I can't begin to imagine what you're going through, but I just want you to know that I'm here. I mean…if you need to talk, or…"

"Ed, I appreciate the thought, but right now…I…I just need time to accept it."

Edmund sighed. "Ok, Peter. I understand. Just know that I'm here when you're ready.

Out of curiosity, Susan pushed open the door to the boy's room to see Peter and Edmund perched on the edge of Peter's bed. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Oh, Peter just took a little tumble and scraped his back up," Edmund replied. "I was just helping him get cleaned up."

"Are you all right, Peter?" Susan asked, concerned.

Peter and Edmund both nodded as Lucy came into the room. She had heard Edmund talking and was going to show him the sketches, until she realized that Peter was in the room too. Given his understandable feelings about leaving Narnia, she knew it might be too soon to show him the sketches, so she hid them behind her back, intending to slip out and hide them until she, Susan, and Edmund could look at them later.

Peter spotted her hovering behind Susan before she could slip away, however, and he offered her a smile. It was only a shade of his normally brilliant smile, but it brought an answering smile to her face. He reached out his hand. "C'mere, Lu."

Lucy hesitated, but then reached out and set the folder on a small table near the door before stepping into the room and moving over to the bed. She took Peter's hand and he pulled her into a light hug. "I'm sorry, Lu. I was acting like a beast yesterday. It wasn't your fault we ended up back here."

Lucy snuggled into his hug, relieved that her brother seemed to be back. "I'm sorry, Peter. If I had known…"

"You couldn't possibly have known, Lu. We all forgot about England, not just you. If you had remembered, you never would have led us there. I'm not angry any more." He looked down into her eyes. "Forgive me?"

"Of course, Peter."

_Author's Note: Review? Please?_


	5. Chapter 4: Painful Despair

_A/N: Bombshell time folks! *holds it out and drops it*_

_**Chapter Four: Painful Despair**_

_Three months later…_

"Oh, I'm so glad to see you!" Helen Pevensie cried as she hurried forward and embraced Peter as they stepped off the train from the Professor's house.

Peter smiled and gently returned his mother's embrace before she broke off the hug to embrace each of her children in turn. It was good to see her after so many months, but it wasn't the same as it had been when they had left. A lifetime had passed for he and his siblings, and he couldn't simply revert to the same person he had been when they had been sent into the country.

The last few months had helped Peter to regain some of his balance, emotionally speaking, but he knew that it would never be the same. He had been an adult. He had been a King. He had been a husband and had been about to be a father. All of those things changed a person deeply. Yes, he was sixteen again, but some part of him would always be that thirty-year-old, and he wasn't sure if he would ever find true balance again.

Despite the chaos of their return, it wasn't long before they were on their way back to the house. All four of the children were shocked at the damage that had been sustained during their absence, although their mother assured them that the bombings were more targeted at military and industrial targets. She had not had to take shelter from a bombing raid for almost two months, which was why it had been declared safe to bring the evacuated children home again.

As they reached their familiar home, they piled out of the car and heaved their bags inside. Edmund and Lucy were chatting happily with their mother about the things they had done at the Professor's, although they were careful not to mention Narnia. They had decided that Narnia was a secret that they needed to keep to themselves, with the exception of the Professor, who already knew all about it.

Peter excused himself and went to take his valise to his room so he could start unpacking. He heaved it up onto the bed and moved to open it, before his gaze fell on the small garden that was just outside his window. His mother loved to garden, and had always kept a small flower bed under his window. Right now, the bed was filled with carefully cultivated flowers, although it appeared that she had started a second plot of vegetables right beside it.

But it was the flower bed that caught his attention. Rich, beautiful violets were blooming, hale and hearty, and the striking color hit him like a blow to the heart, since they were the exact shade of Krisalyn's eyes. He sank down to sit on the edge of the bed and choked back tears, not wanting his mother to come in and find him crying. She would want to know what was wrong, and he couldn't tell her that he was crying over leaving his pregnant wife behind.

Digging into his pocket for a handkerchief, he quickly dried his eyes and stuffed it back into his pocket. He sighed. He didn't know what to think or feel. He didn't want to lose the memories of what he and Kris had shared, but at the same time, he was tired of being blindsided by them at the most awkward moments.

Rising to his feet, he walked over to the window and pushed it open, leaning out and picking one of the delicate violets. He brought it inside, breathing in its sweet scent.

Lucy found him standing there a few minutes later, lost in thought, holding the flower as he absently stroked the petals. She tapped on the open door, drawing her brother's attention. "You okay, Peter?"

Peter nodded and heaved a sigh. "Yeah, Lu. I'm fine."

Lucy stepped into the room and walked over to her brother, wrapping her arms around him. He laid the flower on the dresser and returned the hug, pulling her close. She rested her head against his chest and tilted her face up so she was looking Peter in the eyes. "I wish there was something I could do, Peter."

"I know, Lu. But I have to get through it on my own. That's all there is to it."

"Just know that we're here if you need us, Peter," Lucy chided him gently.

Peter offered her a wan smile.

* * *

_Three weeks later…_

"C'mon, Lucy!" Edmund called, reaching out to help his younger sister out of the cab. "Dad's expecting us!"

Peter held the door to the hospital open for his mother and his siblings as they piled out of the cab. They'd received word from the Army the week before that Mr. Pevensie had been injured and was in the hospital with a medical discharge. They'd gone to see him, only to be told that he wasn't healthy enough for visitors, and that the hospital would notify them when he was.

They headed into the hospital and went straight to the admitting desk to speak to the nurse on duty to find out where Mr. Pevensie was at and what his condition was. The nurse checked into it for them and directed them to a ward set aside for wounded soldiers.

They followed her directions and soon found themselves gathered around William Pevensie's bed. He smiled broadly at them and one by one they leaned over the bed so he could embrace them and give each of them a kiss. There was a hint of pain on his face that all the painkillers in the world couldn't be rid of, but he was genuinely pleased to see them.

"Peter, you've gotten so tall," he observed. "I think you might match me for height, but we'll have to see when they let me stand up," he teased as he gestured at his left leg, which was covered by a clean, white cast and elevated above the bed.

"Yeah, maybe, Dad," Peter teased back, half-heartedly. He was glad to see his father, but looking at William Pevensie's chiseled features (which Peter had inherited, along with his blonde hair and blue eyes), slightly scraggy beard, and well-muscled arms, he suddenly had a flash of seeing himself in the mirror in his bedroom at Cair Paravel, dressing for court, with Kris standing near him, putting the final touches on her own outfit.

He swallowed and tried to shove the memory aside as he stepped back, out of the way, so William could see the rest of his children. He made some comment about each of their appearance, which sent the whole family into laughter.

Finally, William's gaze turned back to his eldest son. "So, Peter, is there any special young lady that I should be made aware of, since I've been out of touch for so long?" He missed the look of near-panic that Edmund, Susan, and Lucy exchanged, as Peter paled, ever so slightly.

Thoughts of Kris, already close to the surface, crashed over Peter at his father's question. He swallowed, trying to ease the sudden dryness in his throat as he suddenly had an image of Krisalyn coming down the aisle in the throne room at Cair Paravel, dressed in her beautiful silver wedding gown. After a moment, he managed to stammer, "N-no, sir. N-no one special." He backed up a few paces, and nodded stiffly to his family. "Excuse me, please." He turned on his heel suddenly, and was gone, out of the ward before anyone realized he had departed.

William frowned after his eldest son, but caught the look that the younger three were exchanging. "What did I say?"

Edmund hesitated before replying. "It's nothing, Dad." The younger boy tried to engage his father in conversation again, but it was obvious that both Edmund's and William's minds were on Peter and his sudden exit.

"I'll go find Peter," Susan volunteered. "He probably just wanted some air. All the smells in here are starting to give me a headache." She turned and hurried away from her family in search of her elder brother.

* * *

Peter left the ward as quickly as he could and hurried toward the entrance. He needed to get away for a few minutes, get some air, and compose himself. It had been an innocent question on his father's part, but the reminder was too much. It was still too close to the surface, even after almost four months. How do you set aside nine years of marriage, just like that? Peter would have been willing to pay almost anything for the answer to that question, just to keep from being blindsided by his memories.

Once out on the street, he took several heaving breaths, trying to stop the trembling that had started in his hands when the memories invaded his mind. He closed his eyes and fought back the tears. _When…oh, Aslan, when will it stop hurting? Will I ever be able to get through a single day without being hit by these memories?_

He leaned against the building, allowing the wall to take his weight so he could compose himself. He buried his face in his hands, and simply stood there, letting the warm sun wash over him and his deep breaths still the trembling. It was several minutes before he straightened and lowered his hands…only to jump in surprise when he saw Susan standing next to him.

"Are you all right, Peter?" she asked, gently, reaching out and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Dad didn't know."

Peter nodded. "I know, Su. I'm okay. It just caught me by surprise, that's all. Sooner or later, I'll get over it and it won't bother me." He smiled at her and reached out to take her free hand, squeezing it gently. "Let's go back inside and join the others."

Susan nodded. "All right. But you know we're here for you, Peter, if you need us."

Peter nodded. "I know…and I appreciate it. But they're my memories. I need to come to terms with it on my own." He released her hand and stepped around her so he could open the door for her.

Susan nodded thanks at him, and entered, Peter following her closely as they started to head in the direction of the ward where their father was recuperating. As they headed across the foyer, Peter thought about their father's injuries. He had a broken leg, a severe concussion, and some minor nerve damage to his arm from some shrapnel that had sliced into his upper right arm. While none of the injuries were life-threatening, when added together, it was enough for William Pevensie to receive a medical discharge. He'd be in the hospital for a little while yet, until the doctors were sure there was no danger of complications from the head injury.

"Someone help us!" a man's voice yelled, and Peter was jarred roughly out of his thoughts. Instinctively, he and Susan both whirled around, intending to answer the call for help.

What he saw though, knocked him mentally off-balance again. "Oh, Aslan…no…"

* * *

Susan had been unobtrusively watching her brother as they crossed the foyer towards the ward. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, but he did seem to be in a better frame of mind than he had been when he had all but run out of the ward.

When the call for help came, the part of Susan that was still a Queen responded instantly, allowing her to spin gracefully on her heel and turn to face the sound of the disturbance as a woman's voice was added to the din. Subconsciously, she was aware of Peter mimicking her movements, spinning to see if he could offer any assistance, although he instinctively reached towards his hip, as if reaching for Rhindon.

When he froze suddenly however, she turned her attention fully to him. "Oh, Aslan…no…"

She didn't know what made him react like that and pale so abruptly, so she turned her attention back to the source of the disturbance.

A young man, in his late twenties, she guessed, had just entered the building, half-carrying and half-supporting a very pregnant woman who was yelling in pain. It didn't take her long to realize what had caused Peter's reaction.

Doctors and nurses were running to the aid of the man and the woman, and they quickly rushed her away. Her worried husband (at least, Susan assumed the man was her husband) hurried after them until a nurse politely told him to stop and wait for news.

_Oh, Aslan…not now…_Susan thought to herself, knowing exactly what was going to be on her brother's mind and unconsciously echoing his thoughts.

* * *

"_Peter?"_

_The young King woke at his wife's gentle touch on his arm. Blinking sleepily, his mind still somewhat groggy from being pulled so abruptly from sleep, he rolled over to face her. "Kris?" he muttered, still trying to pull himself awake. "What's wrong?" he asked, coming awake more quickly at the concerned look on her face._

"_I-I'm not sure, but I think something's wrong with the baby," Kris said after a moment, a wave of pain crossing her face._

_Peter was instantly awake. He rolled over and fumbled to light the small candle that was sitting on the nightstand. Once the gentle glow filled the room he rolled back over to face his wife. "What's wrong, Kris? Do I need to take you to see the healer?"_

_Another wave of pain crossed the young Queen's face and she nodded. "Yes," she managed to say through the pain. "This – this isn't right, Peter."_

_Peter jumped out of bed and took just enough time to pull his dressing gown on over his sleeping attire, tossing Kris hers from where it was lying at the foot of the bed. Once she had it wrapped around herself, he went around to her side of the bed and lifted her into his arms._

_As he entered the corridor, carrying his pregnant wife, the faun guards that were stationed a little further down the hallway snapped to attention and hurried to the royal couple's side. Peter didn't give them time to ask any questions. "Benel, go, wake the healer. Something's wrong."_

_The faun did as he was told. Spinning around on his hoof, he hurried down the corridor towards the chambers where the palace healer lived and worked. Peter followed, carrying Kris. By the time that he reached the healer's rooms, the healer was awake and ready for them._

_Peter deposited Kris on one of the treatment beds where Jana, the centaur healer, indicated that he should set her down, before she gently shooed him out of the room. When he tried to protest, she only insisted more strongly, until he finally acceded to her demands and left, after gently kissing Krisalyn one more time._

Susan knew exactly what her brother was thinking as she saw the distant expression on his face. She winced. A flashback of one of the most traumatic times in his life was not what he needed right now, especially given his already shaky mental balance after their father asked him about any special girls in his life.

Peter could only stare at the young, dark-haired mother as the doctors and nurses rushed her off to a treatment area, leaving the father to pace the waiting area. He didn't see the strange woman, however. Instead, all he could see was Kris, her face showing her pain as he had carried her down the hallway towards the healer's rooms.

"_Peter? What's going on?" Lucy asked, coming down the corridor towards her oldest brother. Her room was not that far from Peter's and the activity in the corridor and the voices of the guards had woken her from a light sleep._

_Peter looked up at his little sister, but didn't cease his pacing. He was certain that he was going to wear a furrow through the thick marble floor before the healer came out with news. Fear had gripped his heart and was fighting for dominance with the worry for his wife and unborn baby._

"_Kris woke me up. She was in pain. Something's wrong with the baby," he replied to his sister's question, turning on his heel and pacing away from her. Ten steps up the corridor and ten steps back. Back and forth. Up and down. Over and over._

"_Oh, Peter," Lucy said softly, "I'm sorry." She turned to one of the guards patrolling the hall. "Please go and summon King Edmund and Queen Susan," she requested quietly. The guard nodded and hurried off._

"_Lucy, you don't have to do that. They deserve to get some sleep," Peter protested, his sister's action enough to make him pause momentarily._

"_Peter, we're a family. They'd want to be here to wait for news. We all love Kris," Lucy replied firmly, taking a seat in one of the chairs that had been placed in the corridor for people to sit in while waiting for the healer._

_Edmund and Susan arrived a few minutes later and together the four siblings waited for news._

_When the healer finally emerged from the room a few hours later, Peter was so worried and afraid that he was literally holding onto his composure by a hair. Before he could even begin to demand information, Jana held up her hand and gestured for Peter to follow her out of earshot of the others._

_The High King was right on her heels as Jana led him a short distance away. "How is Krisalyn? The baby?" he asked, as soon as they were out of earshot._

_Jana sighed. "Your wife is fine, Your Majesty. However, the baby…"_

_Peter felt his heart leap into his throat. The sad expression on the healer's face was not a good sign._

_The centaur looked at him and sighed, "There is no easy way to say this, sire. I'm afraid that the child didn't make it. It was a stillbirth."_

_There was a roaring noise in Peter's ears, and for a moment he wavered on his feet. "Stillbirth? But how? She was five months along."_

_Jana nodded. "I know sire. But sometimes these things just happen. There's not always an explanation. It was nothing Queen Krisalyn did wrong. But she did lose the baby. I'm very sorry."_

Peter came back to himself as Susan touched his arm again. "Peter, snap out of it. Are you all right?"

Peter blinked several times before focusing on his sister's face. "What? Oh, yes…I'm fine, Susan." he replied, although his words sounded forced.

Susan wasn't fooled. She knew what he must have been thinking about. The baby that Krisalyn was currently expecting was not their first. They had tried once before, after they had been married for about four years. Unexplainably, however, Krisalyn had lost the baby, a boy, when she was five months pregnant. Both Peter and Krisalyn had been overcome with grief for a long time, and they had decided, mutually, to wait a few more years before trying again. Of course, they had not intended to wait for five years, but despite their repeated attempts, nothing had come of it until just now.

"Peter…"she began.

"I'm fine, Susan. Let's go back to the others before Mum and Dad start to worry," Peter cut her off, turning around and heading back towards the ward, settling a calm, composed mask on his face. The expression of the High King. Peter didn't use it often, only when he was desperately trying to keep his emotions in check and still needed to look calm and in control. Susan sighed and shook her head, knowing there was no point in talking to him now. He had closed down on her and wouldn't listen until he was good and ready.

_A/N: Don't forget to read and review, folks!_


	6. Chapter 5: Family Pressure

_**Author's Note: Hey everyone! Sorry for the incredibly long delay in updating this story, but real life has been amazingly hectic since my last update. I've lost my job, had to move back home to my parents' house, had to deal with Christmas…it's been never-ending! But, I'm back, I've dealt with all the craziness, and I've got another chapter for you!**_

_**A/N 2: I'm not going to admit to knowing how teenage boys talk about girls, especially in England, so if anyone has any problems with that section, let me know and I'll change it…oh, and I'm calling out for a Brit-picker to let me know if I've made any glaring errors in customs or speech for England.**_

_**Chapter Five: Family Pressure **_

William Pevensie looked up as his two oldest children re-entered the hospital ward together. They strode down the ward side-by-side and as he watched, the nurses and doctors that they passed seemed to instinctively give way for the two teens. It was a very unusual sight, and caused a small frown to cross William's face. There was something about the way they were carrying themselves…their posture was almost perfect and they matched strides easily, despite the fact that Peter was taller than his sister by several inches.

But more than their posture and matching strides, it was the expressions on their faces that caused the frown on their father's face. Susan had a soft, polite smile on her face, although her dark eyes were full of worry and given the way that she kept looking at Peter, it didn't take much for William to connect the dots and realize that it was Peter she was worried about.

Peter on the other hand had an expression that was oddly neutral and impassive, and something about it sent a chill down William's spine. It made him look older and more mature than his sixteen years. In the time that he had been at war, something had changed for his son, and he wanted to know what it was.

"Peter? Are you all right? Did I say something to upset you?" William asked as his children came up next to the bed.

Peter blinked and the slightly impassive look on his face faded into something that looked a little bit more natural. "No. I apologize for leaving so abruptly, Father. It was nothing that you said."

William glanced at his wife and she took the hint, gently ushering the three younger children out of the ward with a promise that they would come back tomorrow to see him. All three children quickly hugged their father again, be careful of his injuries, and sent an unreadable glance at Peter, before following their mother out of the ward.

Once he and Peter were alone, save for the doctors and nurses and the rest of the patients, none of whom were in earshot at the moment, William cleared his throat. "Peter, son, you mother told me how you stepped up to help with your brother and sisters while I was gone. She said that you were the man of the house now. I just want you to know that I am very proud of you."

Peter didn't respond for a moment, but then a small, pleased smile crept over his face. "Thank you, Father."

"I know it's been difficult, having to take on so many responsibilities while you're so young. I'll be home soon though, and it may be difficult for you to just drop all the burdens that you've been carrying for your mother. Is that what the problem is?"

Peter seemed confused for a moment. "Problem, sir? No, there's no problem. I didn't mind."

William licked his lips for a moment, before pressing on. "Are you sure, Peter? Your mother wrote me and told me about the difficulties that you were having with Edmund before you went to that country estate, but then she said that you two were acting like best friends when you came home a few weeks ago. I don't know what changed, but if there's anything that you need to tell me, I'm here now."

For a moment, Peter was tempted to tell his father everything. The caring compassion and love on William's face was weakening his resolve. But his father wouldn't understand. He wouldn't believe that Peter was telling the truth. But it was so tempting to just admit everything. Peter had been responsible for his siblings for what seemed like a lifetime and he wanted nothing more than to pass over all that responsibility to his father again.

At the same time, however, he knew that after all the things that they had experienced; he'd never be able to give up being responsible for Edmund, Susan, and Lucy. Narnia had changed all of them and had cemented their relationship in a way that they had never anticipated. They could no longer go back to being the same children that their father remembered.

"I appreciate your interest, Father, but I have no regrets in taking care of Susan, Edmund, and Lucy," Peter finally replied after these thoughts raced through his mind. "The time in the country simply gave Ed and I a chance to mend things and restore our relationship, and we're both happy about that." He gave a stiff little nod of his head and turned sharply on his heel as he moved back down the ward to join the rest of the family.

William watched him go, more certain than ever that something was wrong with his eldest son, as Peter had neglected to hug him or bid farewell to him, something that his very affectionate son had never before forgotten to do. Whatever was troubling his son, William vowed that he was going to find out what it was and help him through it. That was the duty of a father after all.

* * *

Peter quietly closed his bedroom door behind himself after they returned from the hospital, shutting out the happy sounds of his family laughing and talking together in the kitchen.

He had been spending a lot of time alone since returning from Narnia. His siblings had been infinitely patient with him, and he appreciated their compassion and understanding of what he had been going through, despite their worry, but he knew that his mother didn't understand, and she was starting to worry about him as well. Now, the incident with his father…Peter felt like banging his head into a wall. He had completely botched that visit, and now his father was on the alert. And William Pevensie could be like a dog with a bone when he was worried about his children.

Unfortunately, since he couldn't confess to them why he had been so melancholy, there wasn't anything he could do to remedy their worry. He had been trying so hard to work his way past what had happened and what he had lost, but he found himself being constantly assaulted with memories of Kris and Narnia, and at times it felt like he was drowning and was just praying someone would realize it, grab him, and pull him to safety.

Peter sighed and walked over to the window to gaze down at the flower bed and the brilliant violets that were still in full bloom. Seeing the bright colors, so reminiscent of Kris' eyes hurt, but it was something comforting at the same time, something he could physically hold onto when the memories were strongest.

He leaned against the windowsill and closed his eyes as he buried his face in his hands. "Aslan, why did you have to allow us to leave? If we were supposed to leave, couldn't you have just told us so that Kris could have come with us?"

"I don't know if you would really have wanted that, Peter," a voice said dryly from behind him.

Peter straightened up so abruptly he thought for a second that he had pulled a muscle as he whirled around to face the intruder.

Edmund was leaning against the doorframe, casually, but his dark eyes were full of worry. Peter had been so preoccupied by his thoughts that he hadn't even heard his brother come in. They had all gotten in the habit of having free reign of each others' rooms in Narnia, and that habit had carried back into England with them. At any other time, Peter wouldn't have cared, but his nerves were wound so tightly from the incident that afternoon that he didn't want any company at the moment.

"Edmund, can't you respect the fact that I want to be alone?" Peter snapped at his brother, giving him a glare that would have caused a minotaur in full charge to back down.

Edmund didn't even flinch, used to his brother's displays of temper by now. He continued to lean against the doorframe. "You spend too much time alone these days Peter," was all he responded. "As for your question to Aslan, I don't think you'd really have wanted Kris to come back with us."

Peter's eyes narrowed. Edmund was treading on dangerous ground now. "And what is that supposed to mean? Is there a reason why I wouldn't want to have my," he lowered his voice to a whisper, just in case anyone else was coming down the hallway, "my wife with me?"

Edmund shrugged. "Well, it would be interesting watching you trying to get a job so you could support your family when you're only sixteen and away at school for half the year. Oh, and of course there's the fact that you have to be eighteen to be legally married, otherwise you'd need Mum and Dad to give written permission…oh, and Kris' parents would also have to give written permission, which since they're in another world, would be very interesting to arrange. And of course, it would be hilarious to watch you explain to Mum and Dad how we got sent into the country for four months and then you come back with a girlfriend who is pregnant." The younger boy raised an eyebrow at that. "But, of course, by all means, keep wishing that Kris could be here with you."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Ed," Peter replied tiredly, turning his back to his brother and his attention back to the view outside his window. "I know there would be problems that we'd have to work out, and we might not be able to be considered legally married until we both turned eighteen, but at least we'd be together." He bowed his head and clutched the windowsill. "At least I'd be able to be there for my wife and child," he whispered.

Edmund took a step into the room and closed the door quietly behind himself. "Peter, you're also making a big assumption…that Kris would revert back to being sixteen right along with you. She was born in Narnia…or, well, Archenland. We went back to being our current ages because that's how old we were when we stepped into Narnia. It'd be kind of hard to explain to our parents how we went away for four months and returned home fifteen years older than when we left. Kris though…she would probably still be in her thirties when she stepped through the wardrobe."

Peter's grip on the windowsill tightened until his knuckles turned white, knowing that Edmund was right, but not wanting to admit it. "It's not fair, Ed. Everything was going right for a change. Kris and I were finally going to get to start the family that we wanted. We've already been through so much…how much more do we have to sacrifice?"

Edmund came to stand next to his brother. "I know, Peter. I know it's not fair, and I understand. But dwelling on it constantly isn't going to help you. It's just going to drive you mad. You need to let it go and just accept it. We'll get back to Narnia, and you'll get back to Kris. It can't be an accident that we were sent back when we were. I can't believe that Aslan would do that to us."

Peter was quiet for several moments. "I know, Ed. And I want to believe it too, but…" he shook his head. "Every time I close my eyes I see Kris, and I remember all the things that we shared. Today, at the hospital when I left? As Susan and I were heading back to rejoin all of you, a husband brought his pregnant wife in, and all I could think of was the night when Kris and I lost our first child."

Edmund grimaced, remembering that night all too well. The tragedy had devastated his brother and sister-in-law, and it had taken them a long time to get over it, although they'd taken care to put on brave faces when they were in public. It hadn't been easy on them, with people constantly offering their sympathies over their loss. But they'd had each other, and together, with a little help from Susan, Lucy, and Edmund, they'd gotten past it.

Before Edmund could say anything in response, Peter continued. "Ed, I didn't just love Kris. She was like the other half of me. Now, being back here, in England…I feel like I'm missing part of my soul or something." He looked at Edmund, who had a look of uncertainty on his face. "Oh, forget it, Ed. It's too hard to explain, and I don't expect you to understand, since you hadn't met the lady of your dreams."

Edmund sighed. "You're right Peter. I don't really understand how deeply attached you were to Kris. But I do know how much I love _you_ and how much it's hurting me to see you this depressed. Susan and Lucy feel the same way. We want to help you, but we don't know how, and it's driving us crazy watching you suffer needlessly because you won't let us help you. Plus, you've got Mum and Dad worried about you too."

Peter sighed. "Do you think I want to have everyone worried about me, Ed? I'm used to being the one who worries about you and Su and Lu. This isn't exactly something I asked for, but I don't know how you can help me anymore than you do. I'm trying to get through this one day at a time, but…"

"But you miss her and you just want to be with her, and we're a poor substitute," Edmund finished.

"NO! No, Ed, that's not it at all!" Peter exclaimed. "I love you, and I love the girls. You are _not_ a substitute for anyone! Yes, I want to be with Kris, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be with you, Susan, and Lucy."

"That's not the impression that you've been giving lately, Pete," Edmund pointed out. "You've been retreating to be alone a lot lately, and we haven't wanted to intrude because we understand that you're grieving for what you've lost. But, Pete…" he reached out and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder, "You haven't exactly made us feel like you want us around, either. We understand and we haven't taken offence, but when we go back to school, your friends won't understand and they might. You're going to have to come to terms with this, or you're going to end up pushing everyone away from you, and then you'll _really_ be alone."

The younger boy turned and headed for the door. "Mum's baking biscuits if you decide that you want to join us." He paused just before he exited. "Pete…think about what I said, but also know…you're our brother, and our King. We'll always love you, and we'll always be there for you, if you let us." With that parting remark, the younger King left his brother standing next to the window, the half-forgotten violet still held in his hand, his thoughts whirling with everything he had said…and everything that he hadn't said, but had implied.

He had a lot to think about.

________________________________________________________________________

_London Underground…Strand Station… two weeks later…_

"You will remember to write, won't you?" Helen Pevensie asked as she embraced each of her children in turn at the entrance to the Underground.

"Of course, Mum," Edmund replied, returning his mother's hug. His words were echoed by each of his siblings as they bid their mother farewell for the school term. It wouldn't be all that long, only a few months before they'd be back for the winter holiday.

A clock struck the time and Helen looked up in surprise. "Oh, dear! You'd better go! The train will be leaving soon!"

Amid a chorus of farewells, the four siblings picked up their belongings and hurried to the stairs that led down to the platforms. Peter paused at the ticket stand and quickly purchased the tickets to their different schools. He and Ed were going to one school, and Susan and Lucy were departing for another. It would be the first time that they had been separated in a very long time, although to some people it wouldn't seem that long. But then again, those same people hadn't lived in Narnia for fifteen years, only to return to England in the same moment that they had left it.

Susan caught sight of a newsstand. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Peter. I want to go take a look at the papers." When he nodded and handed her the ticket in case she didn't make it back before the train got to the station, she took Lucy's hand and led her over towards the newsstand.

Edmund spotted some of his friends and went to say hello to them, leaving Peter to find a bench to sit on and wait for his siblings to return. The train was scheduled to arrive in about fifteen minutes, so he knew they wouldn't be too long, since this was the last time they would be together for months.

"Hey, Pete!" a familiar voice called out.

Peter turned his head to see one of his friends and age-mates, a young man named Alan coming towards him, suitcase and messenger bag in hand.

"Hey, Alan! It's good to see you!" Peter returned, honestly pleased to see his friend.

"Where'd you end up going during the evac?" Alan asked as he came up and leaned against the wall next to the bench where Peter was sitting. "I got sent to Devon to stay with my aunt and uncle." He shook his head. "It was so boring! There was no one my age in the area around their farm, and my uncle had me up before dawn every morning to help him with the chores. I was so glad to come home!"

Peter sent him a sympathetic glance. "At least you got to go to family. My sibs and I were sent out into the country to stay with a complete stranger."

Alan grimaced. "Man, I'm sorry to hear that, Pete."

Peter shrugged. "It wasn't that bad. The man was a retired Professor, and he was pretty nice, if a little distant. After the first couple of days though, he warmed up to us, and his estate was large enough that there was plenty to do."

"Well, you survived at least," Alan replied. "Now we just have to survive school again," he added with a look of distaste.

Peter nodded and they fell into a lively discussion about who their teachers were likely to be this year and what classes they would have to take. They were just debating what the Latin class would be like (all the guys in the year above them said that it was a horrible class, but they said that about every class, so Peter and Alan weren't inclined to take them seriously) when a group of boys from a different school came down the steps onto the platform.

Peter turned to watch the three boys out of the corner of his eye. Something about them was putting him on alert. It was the instincts that he had developed as a King and a warrior, and he relied on them to tell him where danger would come from. At the moment, they didn't seem to be bullying anyone, but he was not about to drop his guard. All three boys appeared to be his age or older, but they all matched him in stature and build.

As the three boys wandered down the platform, they made a point of talking to the young ladies that were waiting for the train as well, although most of the girls were intelligent enough to ignore the boys and walk away. Peter watched with growing unease as the boys grew more and more irritable as each successive girl turned away from them.

They paused a short distance from the bench where Peter and Alan were waiting for the train. Peter didn't recognize the crest on their uniforms, and he couldn't recall ever seeing the boys before. Maybe they were new to the school that they were attending. It didn't really matter, Peter supposed, but if there was an incident, he wanted to know what school the boys attended so he could act as a witness if necessary.

As Peter was thinking these things, the boys began to look at the girls and make lewd comments about them.

"Check out the legs on that vixen," the ringleader of the boys said, gesturing to a girl wearing the same uniform that Susan and Lucy wore. "Too bad her skirt's not a bit shorter, eh?"

The other two boys nodded in agreement and the comments were bandied around about other girls waiting for the train, usually within earshot of the girls in question as they attempted to make the girls blush or turn their attention towards them. They moved down the platform to the bench where Peter and Alan were sitting, and the ringleader looked down at them. "You little prats need to get out of our seat."

Alan, who wasn't particularly inclined to argue when it was three against two, moved to stand up, and would have if Peter's hand hadn't rested on his arm, stilling his movements as he looked up at the ringleader. "I believe we were here first. Go find somewhere else to sit, preferably far away from me." His tone was level and even as he drew on his King Peter manners, showing his authority in his eyes and in his tone of voice, letting the boys know that he wasn't going to back down.

The ringleader's eyes narrowed at Peter. "Who do you think you are?"

Peter raised his chin and stared directly into the older boy's eyes. "I know exactly who I am, and I'm proud of it. The real question is, do you know who you are? Because I highly doubt it."

The boy flushed red and clenched a fist, as if he was about to slam it into Peter's face. Alan's gaze was darting back and forth between Peter and the other boy, following the verbal tennis match.

Before the bully could reply to Peter, one of the other two boys elbowed the leader and gestured off to their right. "Hey, Art, take a look at that one! She's one prime fox!"

The ringleader followed his friend's gesture and whistled appreciatively as he caught sight of the girl in question. "Hey, you're right Nigel. She is fine. I wouldn't mind seeing more of her, that's for sure."

Peter followed their gazes, and it only took him a moment to realize that they were looking at Susan, who was on her way back over from the newsstand, although she had paused a good distance down the platform to talk to one of her friends and ignoring a boy with thick horn-rimmed glasses who appeared to be following her. Lucy was still at her side, looking around for her own friends. He rose to his feet, gaining the bully's attention. "That's my sister you're talking about. I would appreciate it if you kept your unwanted commentary to yourselves."

"Your sister, eh?" Art asked, a speculative tone in his voice. "I wonder if she's really as cold as she seems. Maybe she needs a real man to liven up her life. Think she'd be willing?" He grinned suggestively. "I'd be happy to warm her bed and pay her a nice bit of coin, though she'd probably want to do it for free after meeting me."

The mere thought of his elegant, royal sister catering to this lout in any way was ludicrous to Peter and he almost laughed it off, but when the other boy suggested paying Susan for bed favors, he saw red.

The bully never knew what hit him, but a moment later he was on the ground, with Peter on top of him, fist swinging towards his face. Left in shocked surprise for a moment, it didn't take him long before he was swinging back at Peter.

The other students on the platform began to cluster around them, calling out encouragement as the fight continued and Art's friends jumped in to help. Peter, with all the years of fighting that he had under his belt, was managing to hold his own despite the fact that it was three against one, when he felt someone seize his arms from behind and drag him to his feet.

Twisting his head around, he saw Edmund standing behind him, holding him back as he faced down the three bullies. The younger boy's face was calm as he regarded the three other students and his brother. "That's enough!" he called, his voice full of the regal bearing of King Edmund the Just, his tone slicing through the shouts from the other students as he attempted to resolve the situation as the experienced negotiator he was.

Peter tugged away from Edmund and started trying to straighten his uniform as Edmund attempted to resolve the situation using only his words and his calm, even voice.

Art, after shrugging off his own friends who were gathered behind him after helping him to his own feet, turned a fierce gaze on Peter. "Doesn't really matter that the chit is your sister. She still needs a real man, and it's too bad that you'll never be enough of one to get a vixen of your own. Or if you do, it's because you'll have to buy one just to get her to look at you. Maybe you should practice with your sister. I'm sure she'd be glad to help."

Peter's attention snapped back to the bully at his slur. It wasn't the slur to himself that he particularly cared about, but the slur to Susan (and indirectly, to Kris) about them being "kept women" made his blood boil, and he could see Edmund was just as upset. In point of fact, Edmund didn't even bother to hold Peter back as the older boy leapt at Art again, fist swinging, and in fact jumped in right beside him, laying a firm right cross against the jaw of one of Art's friends when he tried to intercept Peter.

At that point, it degenerated into a brawl and fists and feet started flying as the two Kings defended their sister's honor.

Peter looked up at one point to see Susan and Lucy frowning down at them most fiercely before he was forced to turn his attention back to his opponent. A short few seconds later, whistles and adult yells broke up the fight as two soldiers and a bobby waded in among the students.

"'ere now! You're too old t'be brawlin' like that! Break it up!" the bobby yelled, scattering the children and pulling Art off of Peter before pulling Peter to his feet.

As everyone scattered, Susan and Lucy came up to Peter and Edmund and pulled them away and back over to where Peter had left his things. Peter took their bags from them and set them on the ground next to his before flopping down to sit on the bench next to Edmund, who glowered at him. "You're welcome."

"I had it sorted," Peter snapped.

"What happened, Peter?" Susan demanded, all of her bearing reflecting that of a highly annoyed Queen Susan, although at the moment there was no evidence of her Gentle side.

"They insulted me, and then they insulted you, Susan," Peter grumbled.

Susan looked exasperated. "So what? It's not the first time I've been insulted or ridiculed, Peter. I didn't even hear the comment, and I don't recall asking you to defend me from some stupid kid and his insults."

"It wasn't just the slurs to you and Peter, Susan," Edmund stated, wiping a bit of blood from his cut lip. "They also made a slur, unknowingly, against Kris."

Susan bit her lower lip, but looked even more exasperated. "Peter, you've got to stop this! It's getting ridiculous! I know you miss her, I know you want to be with her, but moping around, taking offense at every little thing isn't helping! You're not even pleasant to be around, and you need to get over it and get on with your life! It's been four and a half months, and I'm getting tired of it!"

Peter glowered at his sister. "It's not like I can just set aside nine years of my life, Susan!" he hissed, careful not to raise his voice above a whisper, so as not to reveal his secret to the world at large.

"That is nothing more than an excuse, Peter Pevensie, and it is getting old!" Susan snapped back. "It's about time you started acting like the adult you claim to be, because I am getting sick and tired of babying you all the time. I've tried to be patient, but you're not even attempting to move on, and until you do, I don't want to hear any more about it!"

Edmund and Lucy were staring at the two eldest siblings in shock, mouths hanging open, but before they could say anything in response, the train pulled into the station and they had to scramble to gather their belongings and get on the train. Susan helped Lucy board the train, but then left the three of them standing together to go and talk to her friends.

Peter was fuming, but one look at Edmund and Lucy told him that in this instance, they were going to side with Susan. Before they could say anything he quickly kissed Lucy's forehead, and then turned and stormed down the car, looking for a compartment where he could sit and think.

Edmund and Lucy looked after their departing brother before Lucy turned to Edmund, a look of despair on her face. "What are we going to do, Ed?"

Edmund shook his head. "There's nothing we can do, Lucy. Peter just needs time and space." He sighed. "Come on, we'll go and find a seat and let the two of them sulk for a while." He held out his free hand and she took it, although she looked back in the direction her oldest brother had gone, wishing she could help him, but not knowing how.

_**Don't forget to read and review!!!!!**_


	7. Chapter 6: Timely Intervention

**Author's Note: Well, I have another chapter done, much more quickly than I had anticipated. Hopefully this will make up for the long period of time between the last post and the one before it. Please, please read and review!**

_**Chapter Six: Timely Intervention**_

Peter sank into an empty seat at the far end of the train and buried his head in his hands. He was trembling with repressed anger, both from the comments that the bully had made against his sister, but also his sister's words. He didn't understand why she had snapped at him like that. He was doing the best he could under the circumstances. She just didn't understand and couldn't relate to what he was going through.

_How could she say those things to me?_ he wondered. _She wasn't married; she didn't leave behind a spouse. She has no right to judge me or how I am trying to cope with all of this._

Part of him wondered, though, if Susan could be right. Was he merely hiding behind an excuse and not letting go of the memories because he didn't want to? _How could I __**want**__ to forget Kris? She is my __**wife**__; she is __**pregnant**__ with my child. How can I just forget that?_ It did seem though, that his siblings hadn't had as difficult a time adjusting to being back in England, and that was something else that Peter didn't understand and couldn't cope with. _They can't have forgotten Narnia already, could they?_

"Peter?"

Peter looked up at the sound of his name and saw Alan standing at the other end of the car, looking in at him. The other boy was frowning slightly, but not as if he was angry, just as if he was hesitant to intrude. When he saw he had Peter's attention he spoke again. "Do you want to talk, mate?"

"About what?" Peter asked.

Alan took that as an invitation to take a seat across from Peter. "About what happened at the station. I've never seen you snap like that. Something's troubling you; I'd like to help if I could."

Peter sighed. "I don't know if anyone can help me, Alan. I'm just going through some things, trying to fight through some memories, and I think I need to do it alone."

Alan shrugged. "If that's what you want, I understand, but maybe talking about it to someone beside your sibs will help. I'm impartial to the situation, so I won't judge you." He flushed slightly. "I overheard what your sister said to you before the train arrived, and I think she was being a little unreasonable, but I'm willing to listen."

Peter sighed and considered Alan's offer. They had never been close friends, but they'd been going to school together for several years and had been in several classes together, as well as being on the cricket team last year. Maybe Ed and the others were too close to the situation. Maybe an impartial ear would help him sort through things. Obviously, he couldn't tell Alan _everything_, about Narnia and all that, but he could tell him about Kris and leaving her behind. He'd just have to be careful about how much he told Alan.

"Remember how I mentioned that we got sent to the country during the evac?" Peter asked. When Alan nodded, he continued. "Well, we were staying with the Professor and while we were there I met this girl."

Alan's eyebrows rose slightly, but he was still listening, so Peter continued on. "Her name was Krisalyn, and she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever met. She had long black hair and these striking violet eyes. I thought I was seeing things at first, but we started talking and we became close. I…I fell in love with her. We were the same age, and she was so sweet and gentle…"

"And what, she didn't love you back?" Alan asked. "She was just toying with you?"

Peter shook his head. "No. She did love me back." Now how to frame the next part in a way that would be believable without admitting to the existence of Narnia and the fact that he _was_ married? "I…I asked her to marry me, and she really wanted to, but her parents wouldn't let her get betrothed that young, and she felt that she had to bow to their wishes until she was older. When we got called home, she stayed behind." He sighed. "I miss her a lot. We only had a couple of months together, but I think she was the girl that was meant for me. She just couldn't stand up to her parents, and I wouldn't ask her to, but I won't see her for years, and I'm afraid she'll meet someone else before I get a chance to go back for her."

Alan frowned. "Not sure why that would make your sister so mad at you, mate."

Peter sighed. "She says I've been moping around too much, and she's getting tired of it. She might be right, but I just can't forget about Kris and I want to be back with her so much it hurts."

Alan shrugged. "I'm not sure what to tell you mate. I mean, I'm glad that you found someone, but it's not something that I really know how to advise you on. Do you have her address at least, so you can write to her?"

Peter nodded, even though he knew that wasn't an option. It wasn't like Kris could receive a letter from England. Besides, what would he put for the address? _Queen Krisalyn the Steadfast, Cair Paravel, Narnia_? The idea was just ridiculous, even assuming that a post carrier could find a way into Narnia from England. With the wardrobe passage sealed, there was no way into Narnia. "I do plan to keep in touch with her, Alan, but two years is a long time, and she may want to wait until after I finish at university and have a job before she'll agree. I know that's what her parents want. It'll be even longer then."

Alan sighed. "I wish I could help you out, Pete. I just don't know what to tell you. But for what it's worth, you have my sympathies. I understand why you got so annoyed at that bully, any way." He patted Peter's shoulder and rose to his feet. "I have to go. I promised Thomas I'd meet him once we got on the train. He's probably looking for me. See you at tryouts this year?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there." He watched his friend leave before turning his head to gaze out the window, although he wasn't really seeing the tunnel walls passing. It was just so strange to think about having to go back to school and live his life all over again.

* * *

Lucy sighed and looked up at Edmund. Her brother was busy talking to his friends, and Susan had disappeared and was off somewhere talking to _her_ friends. She reached up and tugged on Edmund's sleeve. When her brother glanced down at her she spoke. "Ed, I want to go and find Peter. I'll see you when it's time to get off the train."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Edmund asked.

Lucy shook her head. "I'll be okay, Edmund." She scooped up her valise and her sweater and started carefully weaving her way through the crowd of students in search of her oldest brother. The crowds were heavy and she had to be careful not to get stepped on by the older students, but she finally worked her way past the bulk of the students and to the door that led to the next car on the train. Sliding open the door, she crossed over and entered the next car. This was also full of students and she kept an eye out for her brother as she continued to work her way back through the train.

She wasn't sure what she was going to say to Peter, but she hoped that she could get through to him. She knew that Susan and Edmund had already tried several times without success, and she was tired of seeing Peter mope around all the time too. The only difference was that she wasn't irritated with him about it. He was her big brother, and she loved him. She still felt some measure of guilt at being the one who had led them out of Narnia in the first place and even though Peter and the others didn't blame her, she blamed herself. Because of her curiosity, Peter had been forced to leave his wife behind. Maybe she could get through to him where the others couldn't.

Finally, after pushing her way through several cars, she spotted him sitting on a bench near the rear exit door, staring out the window. She hesitated for a moment and then moved through the almost empty car to sit next to him.

"Peter?"

* * *

Peter looked up at the sound of his youngest sister's voice and saw her coming over to sit next to him. "Lucy? Is something wrong?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Peter. I know you're upset about Kris, but after what happened in the train station, I was wondering if something else was bothering you."

Peter just shrugged.

Lucy frowned at him. "Peter, you can tell me anything. You know that. What's bothering you? Maybe I can help."

Peter smiled weakly down at her and shook his head. "I doubt it Lucy. You wouldn't understand."

Lucy huffed out an exasperated breath. "Peter, I might be the youngest, but I'm not stupid. How can I understand if you don't try to explain it to me?" When he was silent, she sighed. "Peter, don't you think I feel bad about this situation too? If it wasn't for me, we would still be in Narnia, and you would still be with Kris. But my curiosity is the reason that we were taken out of Narnia, the reason that you had to leave her behind. I want to help you, but you're not letting me!"

Peter stared at his sister. "Lucy, it was not your fault! I already told you that. It was an accident, nothing more, and there's nothing that you could have done differently to avoid it." He wrapped his arm around her. "Your curiosity is one of your best qualities, Lu, and I've never blamed you for that. Aslan must have wanted us here, otherwise we wouldn't have returned. I'm sure he's powerful enough to have kept us there if we were supposed to be there."

Lucy looked up at her brother. "You say it, Peter, but you don't really believe it."

Peter tensed. "What do you mean?"

Lucy pushed away from him and rose to her feet to look him in the eye. "Exactly what I said, Peter. You claim to trust Aslan and to believe in the plan he has for us, but you spend all your time alone. We had to work together to beat Jadis and to rule as well as we did. Why won't you let us work together now to help you through everything? You've always been there for us, let us be there for you. We're stronger together than we are apart, but you're determined to push us away."

Peter glanced away from her and closed his eyes. Lucy reached forward and grabbed his chin and pulled him to face her, causing his eyes to snap open. "You're doing it again, Peter! Let us in! We're your family! You have to start trusting us!"

"I do trust you, Lu," Peter protested, trying to pull away, but Lucy wasn't having any of it.

"It doesn't feel like it, Peter! It feels like you blame us…" her voice dropped slightly, "like you blame me for what happened."

Peter wrapped her in his arms. "I don't blame you, Lu. I never did. I just…" he sighed. "It's hard to explain, and it's not something that any of you have ever had to experience, and I hope you will never have to. I just don't see how you can help."

"You can talk to us, Peter," Lucy sniffed, trying to hold back tears. "You can share your memories with us, let us share ours with you, and together we can help you get through this. All you need is faith in Aslan, and us. I trust Aslan, Peter. He won't abandon us. He has some purpose for us being here, and then we'll go back to Narnia. We're the Kings and Queens. We _have_ to return, but you have to have faith, Peter. Don't just say it. Live it."

Peter stared at his little sister, who was fighting back tears, and then he pulled her close. "You're right, Lucy. I have been acting like a prat and I've been pushing all of you away. I just didn't know how to cope with losing Kris and the baby. I love them so much…losing them was like losing part of myself."

"You still have us, Peter. We won't ever leave you. You're our brother." She blinked her dark eyes at him. "You were always so magnificent in Narnia, Peter. We need you, and we need you to be magnificent here too. You've always been the leader, Peter. We need you to lead us now, and let us support you when you stumble."

"Oh, Lu. I'm sorry. I just…" Peter began and then shook his head. Rising to his feet, he pulled Lucy to her and then reached down for his things. "Come on. Let's go and find Ed and Su. I owe them an apology too, and I need to do it before we get to school." Taking her hand, he turned towards the next car.

Lucy led him through the crush of students, back to where she had left Edmund. Ed spotted them coming and excused himself from his friends and went to meet them. He eyed Peter, before looking at Lucy. "What's up, Lu?"

"Have you seen Susan, Ed?" Lucy asked, looking around for her older sister.

Peter and Edmund started looking around as well, and spotted the tall girl standing at the opposite end of the car. "There she is," Edmund said. "I'll go and get her." He began making his way through the rest of the students, carefully avoiding being bumped and jostled as the train went around a bend. He reached Susan's side and pulled her away from her friends before speaking to her in a low voice.

Susan glanced over to where Peter and Lucy were waiting, and frowned, but when Edmund began moving back through the crowd, she followed him. As they drew up beside their siblings, Peter looked around and gestured for them to follow him to where they would have more privacy.

His siblings fell into step behind him and he led them back to the empty car where he had been sitting when Lucy found them. Once they had all taken seats, Peter cleared his throat and turned to Susan and Edmund.

"I owe both of you an apology," he began. "I've been acting beastly since we were sent back and you didn't do anything to deserve it. Instead of letting you help me, I pushed you away and made it seem like I didn't care about you any more. It was selfish of me, because I forgot that all of you had lost something too. I was just so caught up in what I lost, that I didn't take the time to realize that you felt the same way, just about something different than I did. I'm sorry. Can you forgive me for acting like such a prat?"

Edmund and Susan looked at each other and at Lucy, who nodded encouragingly to them. As they hesitated, she spoke up. "We're a family. We're strongest when we're together."

Edmund looked back at Peter and nodded, stepping forward and embracing his brother. Lucy wrapped her arms around both of them, and then turned to look at Susan. The older girl hesitated a moment longer, and then, finally, stepped forward and joined the family embrace.

They stayed like that for several moments before disentangling themselves. Peter looked at all three of them. "I can't promise that my thoughts still won't dwell on Kris and the baby, but I'll do my best to lean on you if it gets overwhelming, and if you need to talk, I'll listen."

Susan sighed. "And we'll try to be more understanding, Peter. We gave you space and time, but I think we were all starting to get frustrated with you recently, and that wasn't fair to you."

Before Peter could say anything in response, the train car began to shake violently. They all backed apart and looked around wildly as the lights overhead sparked and snapped before abruptly going dark.

"What's happening?" Susan cried.

"I don't know!" Peter yelled back. "Stay close together!"

They stumbled forward and took hold of each others' hands as the shaking grew worse. A loud shriek suddenly ripped through the car and a moment later they saw the next car rushing away from them.

"The cars have uncoupled!" Edmund yelled.

"That's all right!" Peter replied. "We'll just coast to a stop!"

Suddenly the walls of the car began to peel back and separate from the floor of the car. Their hair was whipped wildly by the force of the wind kicked up by the runaway car and Lucy buried her face in Peter's leg.

Another loud screech filled the tunnel and a shower of sparks was kicked up as the car wheels were sheared away and the floor of the car crashed to the track, throwing all of them off their feet. They all hit the ground and rolled towards the edge of the car. Peter tried to hang on to his sisters and find something to stop their tumble but the car was disintegrating around them and there was nothing to hang on to.

Together the four of them rolled off the back of the car and tumbled towards the tunnel floor as a bright light engulfed them. "Hold on!" Peter yelled, clinging to his sisters' hands and praying that they wouldn't be hurt when they hit the tracks. _Aslan, please, protect us_, he thought frantically, hoping against hope that the lion would hear him.

A moment later they hit the ground, but instead of landing on the hard metal and stone ground of the tunnel, something soft cushioned their fall. There were heavy thuds as their luggage hit the ground around them, and then, as the light dimmed, silence fell.

**Don't forget to read and review! I'm on my knees begging now!**


	8. Chapter 7: First Meetings

_**Author's Note: Yet another chapter for you, faithful readers! This one practically wrote itself. Don't forget to review!**_

_**Chapter Seven: First Meetings**_

Peter slowly raised his head and blinked when everything stopped moving. As he shifted his weight, he heard a crackling noise from underneath his hands, and he looked down to see that he was lying in a large pile of fallen leaves. They were much older than the current year, soft and damp with moisture. He looked around and saw tall trees all around. Birds were singing softly in the highest branches.

"Susan? Edmund? Lucy?" Peter called, looking around again and spotting his siblings lying in the pile of leaves beside him. They were all blinking at him and slowly sitting up, stretching carefully to make sure that they weren't hurt. One by one, they sat up and then slowly rose to their feet, picking their way out of the pile of fallen leaves.

They were all silent until Lucy suddenly whooped and threw her hands in the air, looking more like the nine-year-old that she was and not as much like the Valiant Queen. "We're back! We're back in Narnia!"

That was all it took for the others to start their own celebration. Susan and Edmund threw all signs of maturity aside and wrapped their arms around each other and Lucy and started a wild, three-person dance that left them all dizzy when they finally broke apart. They were so ecstatic to be back, that they didn't notice that Peter hadn't joined in.

Lucy was the first one to notice that Peter was still standing quietly near the pile of leaves, looking around with a look of shock on his face. She stepped over to him, quietly, and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Peter? Are you all right?"

Peter looked down at her and slowly the stunned look faded from his face, although Lucy was shocked to see his blue eyes fill with tears. She glanced over her shoulder at Edmund and Susan and the two of them came over to stand by their brother and sister. Lucy looked back at Peter. "Peter, what is it? What's wrong?"

"We're back…" he whispered. "Kris…the baby…our friends…"

Susan wrapped her arms around Peter and pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder as she began rocking him gently. "It's all right Peter. We'll find them. We'll help you reunite with Krisalyn."

All the strain and stress of the last four months washed over Peter in a wave and he willingly hid his face in his sister's shoulder and allowed the tears to come. He had been trying so hard to get through the pain and the grief…to know that they were back in Narnia, that he would be reunited with his wife soon…it was the relief of answered prayer that brought these tears, and the easing of grief, loneliness, anger, and denial.

Susan just held him, rocking him gently back and forth and allowing him to cry. Edmund and Lucy wrapped their arms around their siblings and together the three of them supported Peter, giving him what he had desperately needed, but hadn't known how to ask for.

Several minutes passed before the flow of Peter's tears eased and he was able to raise his head and gently push away from his siblings. As they backed off, he reached for his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief before using it to wipe his eyes and nose. He gave them a hesitant, but grateful smile. "Thank you."

"You're our brother, Peter," Lucy said simply, knowing that he would understand with just those words. Peter nodded and folded his handkerchief again, before pocketing it.

Edmund looked around. "I don't recognize this area. Where in Narnia do you think we are, Pete?"

Peter looked around as well, as did Susan and Lucy. "I don't know, Ed. I suppose we should just pick a direction and start walking. Sooner or later we'll have to bump into something that we recognize."

The others shrugged or nodded in agreement and after a moment, by consensus, they decided to head east, towards where Cair Paravel was. That would be the most likely place for them to find Krisalyn, and Susan, Edmund, and Lucy all knew that was the thought that was foremost in Peter's mind. They were not particularly opposed to seeing their home of fifteen years again either.

* * *

_Three hours later…_

Lucy was looking around the forest, feeling very uneasy. It was a feeling that she hadn't had in a long time. The forest had always felt comfortable and welcoming to her once the Witch had been defeated, but now it felt ominous and…well, dangerous, just as it had been when the Witch had ruled. The trees were much too quiet, and other than the subdued chirping of the birds, there was no sound, and no sign of any Narnians anywhere.

"Lucy, is something wrong?" Edmund dropped back from where he was walking between Peter and Susan to talk to his little sister.

Lucy hesitated before she answered. "I honestly don't know, Edmund. The forest doesn't feel the same as it used to. It feels…foreboding, like it did when the Witch was still around." She hadn't really wanted to say anything about the Witch to Edmund, who was still somewhat sensitive about the whole subject, but it was the only way that she could express what she was feeling in a way that he would understand.

True to her expectations, Edmund's mouth tightened at the mention of the Witch. While he knew his siblings no longer blamed him for going over to her side when they first entered Narnia, and that it was supposed to be behind him, it was still a sore subject with him, and the others did their best to never mention that time to him. Other than the tightening of his lips, however, he showed no signs that it still bothered him as he considered what Lucy had said. Lucy had always been more closely connected to the magic of Narnia than the rest of them had. She had always had a very good relationship with the dryads and other spirits of Narnia, as well as with Aslan. If she sensed something dark from the trees, he wasn't about to discount it.

His only question was, how could this have happened this quickly? They'd only been gone for four months. Could their presence (or lack of it) have influenced Narnia that quickly? Yes, the spell of winter that the Witch had cast had been reversed very quickly when they first arrived in Narnia, but most of that had been due to Aslan and his power, and Aslan's power wouldn't lead to the foreboding that Lucy claimed she could sense around them now.

He looked down at her and sighed. "Do you want to tell Peter and Susan?" he asked her, half-expecting what she would say before she shook her head.

"Not right now, Edmund," the little Queen said. "I know that they need to know, and I will tell them, but Peter is so focused on reaching Krisalyn and Susan is so focused on Peter…"

Edmund nodded, understanding her point. Peter and Susan had always had a very tight bond, probably because they were the two oldest. Susan was very sensitive to Peter's – well, to all of their – moods, and right now, given what Peter had been going through, it wasn't surprising that she was directing her focus to her older brother instead of the younger two. Peter and Edmund had a tight bond too, but they showed it differently than Peter and Susan showed theirs.

They fell silent and continued to follow Susan and Peter through the forest, although both of their attentions were now on the trees rather than their siblings. They had no way of knowing how far it was to the Cair, and they were unarmed. If something had gone seriously wrong in their absence, it couldn't hurt to be on their guard.

* * *

_That evening…_

Peter sat and stared into the campfire. They had walked until it started to grow dark without seeing any landmarks that any of them recognized. Either they were much further from Cair Paravel than they thought, or the land had changed greatly in the short time that they had been gone. Peter didn't think that the second option was very likely, which meant that they must be quite far from the Cair. As soon as they reached the beach, however, they'd know for sure. Cair Paravel sat on the top of one of the highest cliffs that lined the beach and could be seen for some distance, both from the north and the south. Peter suspected that they were somewhat south and west of Cair Paravel still, but hopefully another day of steady walking would bring them to the beach and they would be able to see their destination.

Being back in Narnia…Peter honestly wasn't sure what he should be feeling. He had missed Narnia, but more than anything, he had missed Krisalyn. It was good to be back in the land that had become his home for fifteen years, but more than anything he wanted to see his wife again. The first five years of their rule had been filled with joy and laughter as they brought peace back to Narnia, but the other ten years…despite the sorrow, and the separation between them, Peter felt that he had been more fulfilled and happier than he had been in the first six, simply because he was able to share it with someone who was more precious to him than anyone save his siblings.

_The rest of the Court was mingling and laughing, filling the Great Hall of Cair Paravel with the sounds of joy and music. Peter smiled to himself as he spotted Edmund taking Lucy around the dance floor, and one of the ambassadors from Galma leading Susan around the floor. All three of his siblings looked like they were having great fun as they celebrated the arrival of spring. The annual festival was one of the most anticipated events after the long cold months of winter, and each year it seemed like the Narnians and their allies greeted it with more and more enthusiasm._

_After a moment, he turned his attention back to King Lune, who was walking through the hall with him, both of them enjoying the chance to simply walk and talk in a more informal setting than they normally used. Their conversation had already ranged from arrangements for the next shipments of trade goods to King Lune's upcoming marriage to Lady Adelie at the end of the summer, which Lune had asked Peter to officiate for them, and which Peter had readily agreed to do._

"_Tell me, my friend," Lune asked as they walked along the edge of the mingling courtiers, wineglasses in hand, "Is there anything more I can provide to Narnia after the winter? Some of my aides told me that the northern reaches were hit by terrible storms this year."_

_Peter pondered the answer. It was a valid observation. The northern areas had been hit hard by the winter storms this year, and Peter and his siblings were still trying to provide aide to the residents in that area. Fortunately, those who chose to live that far north had stockpiled plenty of supplies to get them through the winter, but now that spring was here and the snow had melted, the extent of the damage caused by the storms was just now being revealed._

"_The only thing I can think of at the moment, without having the lists of requests in front of me is that we may need some more able-bodied men to help clear water sources and passes through the mountains and valleys. My people do what they can, but not all of them have a human's capacity for fine detail work. If you have anyone you could spare, I would be willing to trade their labor for whatever assistance my people can provide in the areas where your folk would be taken from. Say, an even exchange of labor?" Peter suggested. The sad fact of the matter was that Peter and his siblings were the only true humans in Narnia that didn't come from Archenland, Galma, or one of the other territories governed by Peter and his siblings._

_Lune pondered the idea. "I would have to make some inquires, to see if there is any areas where we can pull that type of labor from," he began, "but it seems to be an even exchange to me."_

_Peter nodded, understanding that such deals couldn't simply be sealed on the spot. At the moment, it was a proposition, and Lune would have to do some checking, to see where he could spare the men._

_Before he could continue, King Lune's face brightened and he steered their path a little closer to the mingling courtiers. _"_Ah, Lady Krisalyn," King Lune stated. The older King turned to Peter. "High King Peter, I would like to introduce you to my niece, the Lady Krisalyn. Krisalyn, this is High King Peter of Narnia."_

_Krisalyn dropped immediately into a low curtsy. "It is a great honor to meet you, Your Majesty." She waited respectfully until Peter indicated that she could rise, before raising her eyes to meet his._

_It took all of Peter's control to hold in the gasp of surprise. Lady Krisalyn's eyes were a rare and striking violet color, and her hair was jet black, woven into a graceful braid and pinned into a coil at the base of her neck. She wore a gown to match her eyes, trimmed in silver, and around her neck was a slender necklace of silver, with a large amethyst. "The pleasure is mine, Lady Krisalyn," he managed after a moment, taking her hand and kissing it gallantly._

_King Lune looked very pleased with himself, although Peter couldn't for the life of him understand why. With a small smile, he excused himself and moved through the crowd towards where Edmund was leading Lucy off the dance floor, leaving Peter and Krisalyn standing face-to-face. Peter felt tongue-tied for a long moment as he simply stared at Lady Krisalyn, before he mentally shook himself and smiled at the young lady. "Forgive my rudeness, Lady Krisalyn. My compliments on your gown this evening. It becomes you quite beautifully. If I am not being too bold, may I ask how it is that we have never met before? I have visited Anvard many times, and your uncle is a regular visitor to Cair Paravel."_

_Lady Krisalyn smiled in pleasure at the compliment. "I thank you, Your Majesty." She glanced in the direction that her uncle had gone and her smiled took on a rueful tinge. "I am not a regular visitor to Anvard. My father is King Lune's brother, and he chose to retire to an estate out in the country rather than participate in the daily life at Court. I have only recently been coming to Anvard to visit my uncle, and when he insisted that I join them on this trip, I couldn't refuse. I fear that _you_ have been set up, however. My uncle has been hoping to get the two of us in the same place for almost two years now." She laughed a little bit. "He is an invariable matchmaker, I am afraid, and his upcoming marriage has only strengthened that tendency."_

_Peter chuckled, understanding where she was going with her words. It was quite true. A great many of King Lune's courtiers had recently been bound in marriage and all the rumors said that King Lune was behind many of the matches. He sent her a small, secretive smirk. "Perhaps we should not disappoint him, then?" He offered his hand as the musicians began a more sedate piece. "May I have the pleasure of a dance, Lady Krisalyn?"_

_She nodded and placed her hand in his and allowed him to escort her out onto the dance floor, to the chorus of surprised murmurs from the assembly. While it wasn't unusual to see Peter escorting someone around the dance floor, it wasn't one of Peter's favorite past-times either. He was normally quite happy to leave the dancing to Susan, Edmund, and Lucy and watch from the sidelines, despite the many young ladies that had tried to gain such an honor of having the High King of Narnia dance with them._

_Krisalyn was a fine dancer, and to Peter's pleasure, she didn't use the opportunity to flirt with him or try to get him to agree to marry her. She kept the conversation light and quiet, and at points Peter had to lean a little closer in order to hear what she was saying, not because she was shy, but simply because she was soft-spoken._

_As the song came to an end, Peter saw Edmund grinning broadly at him and saw the teasing glint in his eye. Peter knew that look all too well. He was going to hear about nothing else but this dance for the remainder of the night. A mischievous grin came over Peter's face. If he was going to hear about it…_

_He turned to his dancing partner. "Lady Krisalyn, do you by any chance know the Spring hummingbird dance?" The dance he was referring to was a complicated partner dance that had been written by a Faun after observing the jewel-bright little birds flitting from flower to flower. It was filled with quick, precise steps and rapid turns, but when it was properly performed, it was amazing to watch. All four of the Pevensies had been required to learn it when they had been instructed in Court dance after taking the throne, and despite being so complicated, it was one of Peter's favorites, and one he could do very well. Edmund, on the other hand, didn't particularly enjoy it although he could perform it well enough when the occasion warranted._

_To his surprise, Lady Krisalyn nodded. "I do, Your Majesty. I have some friends among the Fauns and they taught it to me." She saw the look on his face and tilted her head to the side. "Why do you ask?"_

_Peter quickly explained his plan to her, and to his surprise, received an amused chuckle and an immediate agreement. She offered to go and speak to the musicians to allow him time to put his plan into effect. They parted with a proper bow and both of them headed off the dance floor in separate directions._

_Peter made a beeline for his younger brother, who was speaking to another lady who had arrived with the Archenland party. Edmund saw him coming and grinned broadly at him. "Nice dance, Peter. I'm surprised that you decided to step out on the dance floor tonight. I thought you told me that you weren't planning on dancing."_

_Peter just shrugged. "I changed my mind, and I had a lovely partner tonight, so it wasn't all bad." He slung his arm over his brother's shoulder, earning a suspicious glance. "However, I haven't seen you dancing with anyone except Susan and Lucy tonight. I do think we need to remedy that."_

_Edmund eyed his brother. "I don't know what you have in mind, Peter, but I want no part of it."_

_Peter shrugged. "That's all right, Ed. I was just going to propose a little wager."_

_Susan and Lucy wandered over at the sight of the intense conversation that their brothers were having in time to hear Peter's remark. Lucy giggled. "Go for it, Edmund. What can it hurt?"_

"_My dignity?" Edmund retorted, although there was a spark of interest in his eye. "What do you propose, Peter?"_

_Peter grinned. _Hook, line, and sinker, _he thought to himself. His brother had taken the bait. "I heard a rumor among some of our people that you're the better dancer out of the two of us, but I think that comes from the fact that I don't dance as much as you do. So, I was thinking that I might have to challenge that rumor. Say…we each dance three songs with the lady of our choice – who is not Susan or Lucy, I might add – and then let the assembly vote on who is better? If you win, you get my new knife, and if I win, I get to keep your new cloak clasp?"_

_Edmund looked at least somewhat interested. He had been eyeing the new knife that Peter had received for his birthday from one of their courtiers for almost two months now, and it was a tempting prize. Peter liked the knife, but he wasn't as good with it as Edmund was, so he didn't particularly care if he lost it or not. He rarely fought with knives. On the other hand, he did like the new cloak clasp that Edmund had received for Christmas, since it was carved as a bas-relief of Aslan._

_Edmund glanced at Susan and Lucy, who both giggled. "You don't have anything to lose, Ed," Susan pointed out. "You rarely use your clasp, and you've been trying to get Peter to give you the knife for months."_

_Edmund frowned. "Just three songs?" It sounded too good to be true._

_Peter nodded. "Three partner songs. The winner decided by the assembled group here tonight."_

_Edmund thought fast. He did enjoy the partner songs much more than Peter did, and he knew all of them, so there wouldn't be any trouble there. Peter preferred the circle and group dances, although he could dance partner when he chose, as he had just demonstrated. Finally, he nodded. "All right, Pete." He held out a hand to seal the bargain, and Peter clasped it._

_Peter turned to Susan. "Su, will you announce what's going to happen while I go and choose my partner?"_

_The Gentle Queen nodded, and moved towards the dais, with Lucy following her as Edmund went in search of his own partner and Peter headed for where Krisalyn was waiting for him. He nodded as he approached her and she smiled. Escorting her onto the dance floor as Susan made the announcement and Edmund and his partner joined them and the rest of the assembly moved off the dance floor, he prepped himself._

Peter smiled at the memory of that night. The first two songs had gone off splendidly, to a great deal of cheering and applause from the assembly. He and Edmund seemed to have an equal number of supporters after the second dance, and everyone had been keeping rhythm as they danced around the floor. Of course, then he had Krisalyn had launched their plan.

_Peter took several deep breaths as the whirling second dance ended. He was pleased to see that Edmund was fully in the spirit of it, as were their partners. As for himself, Peter had to admit that he had never had a better partner than he had in Lady Krisalyn. She was light on her feet and graceful, and she trusted him implicitly. Those were all benefits, and they were about to pay off in the next dance, which required all three to be successful._

_If this worked the way he planned, it was not only going to look splendid, but it would end with him gaining possession of Edmund's clasp. With Krisalyn garbed in a deep purple, and himself in scarlet and gold, they would certainly look striking performing the dance. Edmund had chosen to wear silver and black that night, and his partner was dressed in a pale pink. While they made a beautiful couple, the deeper jewel tones of Peter and Krisalyn's outfits would simply look more vibrant as they moved through the steps._

_They took their places for the start of the dance as the musicians struck the first notes. Edmund had time to shoot a Look at Peter as he realized what dance they were about to perform, but that was all he could do as the musicians launched into the piece._

_Peter forgot all about the competition with Edmund as he focused on the dance. It was a dance that required complete attention, because a stumble would break the subtle patterns of the dance and make it look like a huge mess rather than the light and airy partner dance it was supposed to be._

_The steps had to be precise, and most of the dance was done on the ball of the foot, because the steps were so quick that it didn't leave time for the foot to come down completely. Plus, since the dance was written by a Faun, who had smaller feet than humans, it wasn't so surprising that the steps were more mincing than firm. To Peter's surprise, Krisalyn matched him step for step, trusting him to lead her through the dance but obviously knowing it well enough that if he faltered she could pick up the slack without appearing like she was covering for him._

_Peter lost himself in the music and in watching Krisalyn's face as they stepped through the dance as if they had been doing it together for years. Her brilliant eyes were bright with happiness and her face was flushed as she moved through the quick steps, twirls, and runs that the dance called for. The finale came sooner than Peter had expected and he shifted his weight to prepare to lift his partner into the air. She was right on the beat and leaped at just the right moment to make it easier for him to get her up into the air and spin with her as he finished the final run before tossing her up into the air and catching her as the dance's final notes sounded._

_Glancing over to the side, he saw that Edmund had made it successfully through the dance, although he and his partner looked less pleased about it than Peter and Krisalyn did, and as the assembly roared with yells and applause, they all took their bows before looking over to where Susan and Lucy were waiting for the noise to quiet down._

_Peter glanced at Krisalyn and smiled. Her face was flushed, but it only added to her beauty, and her eyes were bright as she looked over at him. He kissed the back of her hand, drawing her attention. "I must say, although that is one of my favorite partner dances, I don't think I've ever enjoyed it as much as I just did, Lady Krisalyn."_

_The lady smiled prettily back at him before replying. "I feel the same way, Your Majesty. However, please call me Krisalyn."_

_Peter's smile broadened. "Very well, Krisalyn. To you, I am Peter."_

Peter's smile grew wider as he remembered Edmund's reaction to that third dance. Although the results of the vote had been close, he and Krisalyn had won, simply based on the sheer strength of that third dance. Edmund had accused Peter of fixing the competition, knowing that the hummingbird dance was one of Edmund's least favorite and least proficient dances, but when Krisalyn had admitted to asking for the dance, he had backed off. Peter had admitted to asking Krisalyn if she knew the dance, although he passed it off as assessing his partner. If she could do that dance, chances were she could do any of the partner dances. To soothe Edmund's ruffled feelings, Peter had arranged to have his knife slipped to his brother quietly through Lucy.

That festival night had been the start of a wonderful relationship. The Archenland party had remained at Cair Paravel for several weeks as King Lune worked with the Pevensies to strengthen their already strong alliance, and Peter had made a point of seeking out Krisalyn for a few minutes every day, and dancing with her on the nights when the Court had requested it. It hadn't taken long for the rumors among the courtiers to blossom fully, but Peter had been cautious about approaching this relationship. He hadn't been sure how ready he was for a permanent relationship, and when the Archenland party left a few weeks later, he was still confused.

Two months had passed before he saw Krisalyn again, when he and his siblings came to Archenland for King Lune's wedding. Krisalyn, as the King's niece, had been waiting to greet them when they arrived at Anvard.

_Peter shifted on his horse's back as they approached Anvard. It had been a long ride, but that wasn't what was bothering him, although he was trying to hide it from his siblings. He was interested in seeing Lady Krisalyn again, although he'd been careful not to respond to the rumors that a romance was in the works between the two of them. Denying the rumors would only confirm them in the eyes of the Narnians. Susan and Lucy had tried many times to trick him into admitting that he was interested in Lady Krisalyn, but Peter, knowing how much his sisters loved a good romance, had done nothing to encourage them, and thankfully most of the rumors had died out after a few weeks._

_If Susan and Lucy could see his thoughts now, however...Peter chuckled softly to himself, knowing that his sisters would immediately pounce on him if they saw any sign that he was anxious to see Lady Krisalyn again._

_If Peter was honest with himself, he wasn't sure that he was ready to settle down with anyone. He was only twenty-one and he hadn't really considered the thought of marrying and starting a family. He wanted to _someday_ but he wasn't sure he was ready, and he wasn't sure that Krisalyn was the one he wanted to marry. But he knew his sisters, and he had overheard many conversations concerning himself and Lady Krisalyn over the last few weeks. From what he gathered, both Lucy and Susan had met Lady Krisalyn and liked her a great deal. They both felt that she would be an excellent choice for Peter, and although they hadn't sounded out Edmund, Peter had the sense that his younger brother approved as well, although the idea of marriage was probably as foreign to Ed as it was to Peter. That did bring some measure of relief to Peter. He wanted his family to like whoever he chose to marry, if that day would ever come._

_Peter looked up at the castle as they rode up to the massive gates. This was not the first time that he had been to Anvard, and he was certain it wouldn't be the last. He and his siblings tried to make a point to visit at least once a year if they could, and King Lune reciprocated by coming frequently to Cair Paravel._

_The servants waiting in the courtyard all bowed respectfully to the Narnian travelers, before moving to help them dismount and to take the baggage and the horses away. Peter's group consisted of himself, Susan, Edmund, Lucy, General Oreius, Faun Tumnus, several other advisors and Council members, as well as a few members of the Court who either had friends in Anvard or who simply wanted to make the trip in honor of King Lune and his bride._

_Peter patted his mount's neck and checked to make sure his sisters had dismounted before turning his attention to the castle. He was surprised to see that it was Krisalyn who was waiting for them, alone, standing on the steps leading up to the wooden doors. He swallowed and did his best to hide his reaction. _Now_ was not the time for his sisters to start matchmaking again._

_Peter led the way as the party moved towards the steps, and Krisalyn came to meet them half-way. She curtsied as they approached, and Peter and the others bowed respectfully, since they were the guests. As High King, it fell to Peter to speak for the group, and he cleared his throat and tried to remember the formal speech he had planned, which had flown out of his mind when he saw that Lady Krisalyn was their "official greeter"._

"_Lady Krisalyn, it is a great pleasure to see you again, and on behalf of Narnia, we've come to celebrate your uncle's marriage to the Lady Adelie."_

_She smiled at everyone in the group, before turning her attention to Peter. Was it his imagination, or was her smile a little brighter as she looked at him? "Your Majesties, it is my honor to welcome you back to Anvard on the occasion of my uncle's marriage. He has asked that I escort you to the throne room, as he is in the middle of a session of Court, but he would like the opportunity to greet you before dinner. Would you like to see him now? Or if you prefer, I can show you to your rooms so you can freshen up first."_

_Peter glanced as his siblings and saw their answers in the slight shakes of their heads. He turned back to Lady Krisalyn. "We would like to see King Lune, although I thank you for the offer of rooms. The trip here was very easy and not too taxing."_

_Krisalyn nodded and led the way into the castle and through the halls. Anvard was as fine a castle as Cair Paravel, and almost as familiar to the Narnian rulers, since they visited so frequently. It didn't take long to reach the throne room, and when they did, Krisalyn slipped inside to speak to the herald, who gained the attention of the assembly by rapping his tall staff on the stone floor so he could begin to make the introductions._

Edmund came over and laid a hand on Peter's shoulder, shaking him out of his reverie. "I'll take over the watch, Pete. Get some sleep. With luck, we'll be at the Cair tomorrow and you'll be with Kris again."

"Thanks, Ed," Peter said, rising to his feet and moving over to where Edmund had made up a makeshift bed out of fallen leaves. He glanced back at his brother as Edmund settled down to take the rest of the night's watch. "Ed?"

Edmund turned to look at Peter, who gave him a small smile. "Thanks…for everything." He knew Edmund would hear the unspoken message in the words. The thanks for the months of support, for being a sounding board…for being Peter's brother.

Edmund smiled back. "You're welcome Pete."

Peter lay down in the leaves and closed his eyes. Sleep wasn't long in coming, and it carried him off on gentle wings, with dreams of seeing his wife's face the coming day.

_**Please review! It makes me so happy!**_


	9. Chapter 8: Fortunate Encounters

**Author's Note: Well, my muse finally decided to return on this chapter so I could finish it. From this point forward, we're going to be diverting from the established Narnia canon timeline. Most of the events of the movie Prince Caspian are still going to happen, since this is movie-verse, but in order to make this work with my envisioned plot, events are happening much, much sooner in Narnian history. This is just a warning for anyone who might be a stickler for timeline canon.**

_**Chapter Eight: Fortunate Encounters**_

"Peter, how far do you think we are from Cair Paravel?" Lucy asked the next morning, after they had all eaten what meager breakfast they could find and started out on their journey again.

Peter looked around at the woods and sighed. "I wish I knew for sure, Lu. I'm hoping we'll make it to the beach today, at least. We should be able to see Cair Paravel from there."

Lucy glanced at Edmund, silently asking him if he thought now was the right time to tell Peter and Susan about the silence of the trees. Edmund eyed his older siblings, studying them with all the knowledge and experience the years of working beside them had brought before nodding at Lucy. Now was the right time. The impact of being back in Narnia had faded somewhat, and although Peter was still focused on getting back to Cair Paravel, he would be more open the things going on around him.

Lucy stepped up beside her brother and laid a hand on Peter's forearm, drawing his gaze. "Peter, yesterday I noticed that something seems very odd. The trees are much more quiet than they usually are, and there's…something dark about this area. I don't know how else to explain it, except that it almost feels like it did when the Witch was around."

Peter's mouth tightened the same way that Edmund's had when Lucy mentioned her feelings to him the day before. For a moment, Lucy wasn't looking at her older brother Peter, she was looking at High King Peter the Magnificent as he assessed what was around him, his own wants and needs pushed aside for the greater good of his kingdom and his people. It was a transition that Lucy was glad to see. It had been a long time since she had seen this Peter compared to the moping, grieving one.

Peter carefully studied their surroundings, listening and looking for any signs of danger. It only took him a few heartbeats to realize that Lucy was right and that something was very wrong. Unlike Lucy, he had to focus harder to sense the differences in the woods, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, since he was responsible for the overall health and protection of Narnia. Each of his siblings had claimed responsibility for a different area of Narnia. Edmund had governed and handled problems with the Western reaches of Narnia, Susan had primarily handled the Southern reaches, and Lucy had managed the Eastern reaches. Peter had governed the Northern reaches, as well as assisting with the other three quarters of Narnia when the occasion warranted.

In addition, each of his siblings had demonstrated skills with dealing with Narnia's residents. Lucy had always had a strong bond with the spirits of Narnia and the creatures of the deep woods, as well as Aslan himself. Edmund had made many friends among the dwarves, and no few of the good giants, while Susan had dealt well with the Fauns and the merpeople. Peter had shown a strong bond with the Centaurs, the gryphons, and the vast majority of the Talking Animals. Their varied skills had been part of the reason that Narnia had prospered during their reign.

Now, however, Peter didn't know what to think. How had this…darkness…this tension fallen over Narnia so quickly? Even without himself and his siblings in the thrones of Narnia, Krisalyn had still been here, and she was completely capable of ruling Narnia on her own if necessary. She'd done it before when Peter and his siblings had been called away for various reasons. Something was very wrong with this situation, and Peter didn't like it. Had something happened to Krisalyn during his absence? He'd only been away for three months, it wasn't even time for the baby to be due, so unless something had caused her to lose this baby too…

Peter shuddered, not even wanting to consider the possibility that his wife had lost their baby again, and that this time it could have cost her life as well. He shook the morbid thoughts from his mind and turned back to Lucy. "I don't know what's going on Lucy, but the sooner we can get to Cair Paravel, the sooner we'll find out what's wrong and put a stop to it."

Lucy only nodded and the four of them set out again, heading towards Cair Paravel.

* * *

"I think we're coming to the end of the forest finally," Edmund whispered a few hours later as he saw the trees thinning up ahead.

Peter sighed in relief. The end of the forest meant that they had reached the beach and he was hoping that from here they would be able to see Cair Paravel and know which way they needed to turn. He was really hoping that they were within walking distance of the Cair. He wanted to be home and back with Krisalyn more than anything in the world.

They slowed their pace and began moving more quietly through the trees, just in case. If something had gone drastically wrong in their absence, there was no point in making targets of themselves. They had been Kings and Queens too long to forget caution in unknown situations, especially where the lives of their subjects were concerned. However, it rankled Peter to have to sneak through their own Kingdom. It just didn't feel right, since they weren't on a military campaign.

They crept up to the edge of the trees and peered out. In front of them was a wide open meadow, but not the beach that they had been hoping to see. On the far side of the clearing, the forest started up again. Sunlight poured down into the clearing, but the meadow was too quiet.

"Peter!" Susan whispered. "I recognize this place. This is the Dancing Lawn."

Looking out at the meadow, Peter realized that Susan was right. This was a place they were all familiar with. It had been a favorite camping site whenever they were returning from Anvard because it was large enough to pitch tents for every member of their traveling party. It was also a favorite place to hold festivals and celebrations in the spring and summer months.

Peter frowned, puzzled. "If we're on the western side of the Lawn, then the River must be behind us. But we didn't cross the River yesterday."

"We must have landed between the River and the Lawn," Edmund pointed out. "Either that, or we somehow drifted north at some point yesterday and we started out south of the River. It only cuts through a small part of the woods on the western side of the Lawn, remember?"

Peter thought about it for a moment and realized that his brother was right. They had been traveling east, but it was entirely possible that they had drifted slightly north, due to terrain and not really paying much attention other than that they were traveling in a easterly direction.

"You're probably right, Ed," Peter agreed. He thought a moment, trying to picture a map of Narnia in his head. He'd memorized all of the terrain and territory maps of Narnia at various points during their reign, due to his training with Oreius in tactics and leading an army. After a moment, he had it and he thought about the different routes they could take from here to Cair Paravel.

From where they were, they would have to cross the Rush River, which was a smaller river, but also swifter in some places than the Great River. They really only had to decide whether to bear north towards Beruna or cut straight across to the coast before heading north to Cair Paravel. If they went north now, they'd have to backtrack a little bit to the west, but then they could follow the River all the way north and east, right to the gates of Cair Paravel. If they decided to go east to the coast and then turn north they wouldn't have to backtrack and they would be able to cross the Rush River at one of its smallest points.

Peter bit his lower lip as he thought about the options. The only downside to going north now, other than backtracking, was they would have to cross a second smaller river before they reached the Rush, and it would be a longer walk, although it would probably be an easier one. He wasn't keen on the idea of having to backtrack, especially since doing so would add more time to their travels and keep him away from Kris that much longer. But it was only fair to ask his siblings what they wanted to do and put it to a bit of a vote.

He quietly explained the options to his siblings who all looked thoughtful as they considered what the best choice of paths would be. Susan was the first one to speak. "I think we'd be better off going north and following the river, Peter, but I'll go with whatever everyone else wants to do."

Edmund and Lucy looked equally contemplative and finally agreed with Susan. Edmund reached out and clasped Peter's shoulder gently. "I know you want to get there sooner, Peter, but the terrain always was easier along the River and we won't exactly be able to get lost."

"We're not lost," Peter retorted gently, a little stung by his brother's words.

"No, we're not," Edmund agreed. "That's not what I meant, Peter. But going straight across to the coast…we could get lost if the terrain forces us to detour. If we follow the River though, we're can't get lost because the River emptied out directly into the cove below the Cair."

"We're all agreed then?" Lucy asked. "We'll backtrack to the River and then go north?"

The other three nodded in agreement, before turning around and heading back to the west. Peter glanced back over his shoulder at the quiet meadow, still not liking how different things seemed to have become in such a short time. Whatever had gone wrong, with Aslan's grace, it wouldn't be difficult to correct now that they had come home again.

* * *

It hadn't taken them long to locate the Great River where it cut through the forest, much to Peter's relief. Once they reached the river, they decided to stop and rest for a short while. A few fruit trees were in bloom along the river, and Peter and Edmund made quick work of gathering enough fruit for the four of them to have a decent lunch.

As the last piece of fruit was eaten, Peter stood and walked over to the River and quickly washed his face and hands free of the slightly sticky residue that remained. The water was cold and he shivered slightly as a breeze dried the water, chilling him slightly. His siblings followed suit, amid a chorus of complaints about how cold the water was.

While the others were getting ready to start again, Peter was trying to picture their route. If he remembered correctly, there was very little tree cover along the banks of the river until they reached the Ford at Beruna. It would allow for a quick march, but it would also leave them without an escape if something were to go wrong since they were currently unarmed.

Fortunately, Peter wasn't expecting any trouble. If something did happen, between the four of them, they had plenty of evidence to prove that they were the Kings and Queens, and there were very few Narnians who would take any action against them once they knew that. He would have felt more comfortable if he had Rhindon, or at the very least if Susan had her bow, but they didn't so there was no point in dwelling on it. All they could do was make their way back to Cair Paravel and see how things stood in the kingdom.

They were finally ready to set out again and quickly began walking along the river bank, heading north towards the mouth of the river where it emptied out into the sea below Cair Paravel. If they had horses, they could have traveled the distance by the end of the day, or possibly have camped one more night and arrived first thing in the morning. On foot it was likely to take at least two more days to make it all the way to their castle. Fortunately, the walk was an easy one. They did not have to pick their way through the trees and underbrush, so their pace was brisk. The breeze coming off the river was pleasant as well and all in all made for a relatively enjoyable trip. The fact that they were back in Narnia was only adding to the pleasure of the trip.

They had been walking for about an hour when Peter suddenly stopped and motioned his siblings to silence. He had heard the sound of voices up ahead, around the next bend in the shoreline. Moving forward slowly, Peter crept in closer to the tree-line, his brother and sisters following him. They edged around the bend, ducking into the trees so that they would not be observed and then paused to examine the situation that had met their eyes.

A small boat was making its way upriver and two men were sitting in the boat. One was rowing, and the second was holding a crossbow and keeping a wary eye out along the shore. Neither man was making an effort to keep their voices quiet, so the Pevensies heard every word that was spoken.

"It won't stop staring," the rower told his companion, his gaze fastened on something in the boat.

"So don't look," the bowman replied, glancing at his fellow before turning his attention back to the woods.

The rower continued to look uneasy, and finally released the oars. "Here's good enough."

The other man nodded and put his crossbow down. They stood up carefully in the little boat before bending down and lifting up whatever the rower had been looking at.

Peter tensed and felt Edmund doing the same thing beside him as Susan and Lucy stifled gasps of horror. The two men were holding a dwarf, tightly bound and gagged. It was obvious that their intention was to drown the dwarf.

"Peter, we can't let them do it!" Lucy hissed at her brother.

"I don't know how we can stop it, Lu," Peter whispered. "We have no weapons, and they have at least one crossbow. If we had our weapons or some reinforcements, we might be able to do something."

Lucy fell silent, understanding her brother's point, but not liking it. She closed her eyes as she heard a huge splash and tried to stifle the tears that sprang up. "Peter, please!" she pleaded with her brother.

Peter frowned deeply and kept a close eye on the two men as they sat back down in the boat and began to row away. The river's current was swift, and if they left quickly enough, they might be able to save the dwarf before he drowned.

Edmund rose to his feet, his eyes on the men in the boat as they swiftly paddled back downriver and around the bend. As soon as they were out of sight, Peter and Edmund launched themselves out from the trees and towards the water. They couldn't let one of their subjects die in front of them without trying to save him.

Peter launched himself into a flat dive and plunged beneath the water, his eyes searching for the dwarf. The river was deep here, but sunlight still pierced the clear water and he spotted the dwarf almost immediately. The dwarf was trying to kick for the surface, but not having much luck since his legs were bound. His struggles were getting weaker as he began running out of air. Peter angled himself downward, pulling himself deeper with powerful kicks and strokes and soon reached the dwarf. Reaching out, he grasped the dwarf under the arms before turning them towards the surface and kicking as hard and as fast as he could.

Edmund was waiting when Peter broke the surface and quickly reached out and grabbed the dwarf as he was treading water. As Peter took a deep breath, Edmund reached up and pulled the gag down off the dwarf's mouth so that the dwarf could spit out the water he had begun to take in. Amid the dwarf's coughs, Edmund and Peter began to tow him towards shore, since they had no way of removing his bonds while they were in the water.

Susan and Lucy splashed into the water and dragged the dwarf up onto the shore as Peter and Edmund found their footing and exited the water. The two girls immediately began trying to untangle the wet ropes from the dwarf's feet and wrists. It took several minutes while the dwarf simply lay there sucking in precious oxygen before they got the ropes loose enough to slip off.

"Are you two all right?" Lucy asked, looking at her dripping brothers. They nodded and removed their jackets and shirts so they could wring them out. Peter shoved a hand through his soaked hair, scattering water droplets and making the blonde locks stick up in rather interesting ways.

"Are you well, good Dwarf?" Edmund asked, looking down at the dwarf as he slowly rose to his knees.

The Dwarf nodded, a scowl on his face. "I suppose I should be grateful," he muttered. "You couldn't have come a few minutes earlier?"

Peter frowned. "You might consider saying 'Thank you'. We couldn't do anything since we don't have any weapons on us, and I was not about to put my family in danger when they had crossbows."

"Why were they trying to drown you anyway?" Lucy asked.

The dwarf looked sour. "They're Telmarines. It's what they do."

All four Pevensies looked shocked. "Telmarines? In Narnia?"

The dwarf appeared astonished. "Where've you been for the last two decades?"

Peter paled. "Twenty years? Is that how long it's been?" he whispered. His siblings looked equally shocked. They'd only been gone for four months. How had this happened?

The dwarf frowned. "The Telmarines have been in control of Narnia ever since the Kings and Queens abandoned us twenty years ago."

"Good Dwarf," Edmund began, before he paused. "What is your name?"

"Trumpkin the Red Dwarf."

"Good Trumpkin," Edmund continued smoothly. "We didn't mean to leave, and we certainly never abandoned Narnia."

Trumpkin's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'we'?" he demanded. He eyed them more closely.

Seeing that Peter was still in shock over the time that had elapsed, Edmund stepped up. "I am King Edmund. These are my sisters, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy, and my brother, High King Peter."

Trumpkin looked incredulous. "You've got to be kidding me! You honestly expect me to believe that you are the Kings and Queens?"

Edmund frowned. "Indeed. Unfortunately, we don't have any of our weapons or gifts with us, or we could provide some tangible proof. We only returned to Narnia yesterday, and we were on our way to Cair Paravel. "

Trumpkin scoffed. "No one wants to go to Cair Paravel. The Telmarines have taken it over while they build their own castle further south. That's where I just was. I was taken prisoner and sentenced to death by their Lord Protector Miraz and the rest of the Council, just for being a Narnian."

Peter seemed to have gotten past his shock, but there was only one thought on his mind. "What about Queen Krisalyn? What happened to her?"

Trumpkin shrugged. "Not sure, and no one seems to know. Some rumors say that she is in hiding somewhere in the woods, others say she was killed when the Telmarines captured Cair Paravel, and some say that she fled to Archenland."

Peter swayed at this news. _Kris…oh, Kris…what happened?_ He couldn't wrap his mind around it. How had the Telmarines been able to invade? Oreius and the other Narnian generals should have been able to hold them off, at least long enough for Krisalyn to send word to their allies in Archenland. He had no doubt that Archenland would have responded. Not only were they allies, but Krisalyn was related to the Archenland royal family. Her uncle was King Lune, one of Peter's closest friends despite the difference in their ages. It made no sense.

Edmund looked at his brother, concern crossing his face. Trumpkin, however, didn't seem to catch Peter's reaction. "Why do you care so much about Queen Krisalyn?"

Susan and Lucy winced and Edmund reached out to hold his brother back as Peter moved towards Trumpkin. The High King's face was full of irritation and outrage. "For your information, she is my wife," Peter hissed angrily.

"Peter, calm down," Edmund said quietly, leaning up to whisper in his brother's ear. "We'll figure out what's going on. I'm sure Krisalyn is fine. We'll get this sorted out and we'll find her."

Peter closed his eyes and reined in his temper with an effort. Edmund was right. As much as he needed to know what had happened to his wife and child, right now the welfare of Narnia needed to be his priority. He took a deep breath and relaxed his tense muscles. A moment later, High King Peter was looking down on Trumpkin with a cool, calm expression, but one that was full of authority. It was an expression that he had used many, many times over the years, and it never failed to show that no matter how old he was, he had all the authority that Aslan had granted him and he knew how to use it. "I think you need to tell us everything, Trumpkin."

**Please. please, please read and review! *drops to her knees and starts begging***


	10. Chapter 9: Emotions

**Author's Note: Another chapter, much sooner than I had intended! I'm very happy with this chapter. It practically wrote itself, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's rare that my characters just take over and steal the scene away from me. But I especially hope you like the second half of the chapter, since this is the first "romance" scene I've tried to write, save for the wedding in the prologue. Anyway, read and review, and of course, enjoy!**

_**Chapter Nine: Emotions**_

Peter led the group back to the tree-line, where they found some old logs and small boulders to use for seats. They settled down on the make-shift seats and then the four royals turned to Trumpkin and fixed him with attentive gazes. "Now then," Peter began, taking control of the situation. "If you would, please, Trumpkin, tell us what has been happening in Narnia? The last thing that we know of what has happened is that we left to hunt the White Stag."

Trumpkin frowned in thought. "I'll do my best to tell you, but keeping the history has always been my friend Trufflehunter the Badger's forte." He paused to gather his thoughts, although he still seemed skeptical of their identities. "After you disappeared from Narnia, Queen Krisalyn continued to rule Narnia. The stories say that she never gave up hope that you would return and reclaim your thrones. About five years after you went missing, the first attacks on the Narnia border occurred by the Telmarines."

All four of the Pevensies shook their heads, but didn't say anything to interrupt the narration. Peter noticed that Trumpkin hadn't said anything about his child, which made his heart clench in fear. Had Krisalyn lost this baby too? He mentally shook himself. Perhaps Trumpkin simply didn't know anything about it. He and Krisalyn had not formally announced that they were expecting another child, since they had planned to do so when he and his siblings had returned from the hunt. If Trumpkin had never had cause to be in the Court, he very well might not know that Krisalyn was pregnant. Just because the dwarf hadn't mentioned it didn't mean that Krisalyn had lost the baby.

"The Telmarines were well-armed and organized," Trumpkin replied. "From what I understand, the land of Telmar had been devastated by a famine, so the entire nation packed up and moved east, looking for a new place to live. They encountered Narnia, not realizing that it was occupied, but when they saw Narnians for the first time, they believed Narnia to be a wild, untamed land, and they attacked. Because they were so well organized, they were able to push quite far into Narnia before word reached Cair Paravel of the invasion."

Peter glanced at his siblings, nodding to validate the point. Edmund had always had charge over the Western Marches of Narnia, and there were very few Narnians living in that area. If the Telmarines had attacked as viciously as Trumpkin was describing, it was quite possible that until they reached more occupied lands, no one had realized what was going on. The lack of residents in the Western Marches had always been one of that region's greatest weaknesses, since it could take quite some time for news to reach Cair Paravel.

"The Queen and Council immediately called the army together and sent messages to Archenland, but Archenland couldn't spare anyone to help because Calormen had been attacking their borders. By the time that situation was resolved, the Telmarines had control of Narnia."

The Pevensies were horrified, but Trumpkin wasn't finished yet. The dwarf continued. "The army went out to meet the Telmarines, but they were defeated quite soundly, and driven back and back until the Telmarines were able to lay siege to Cair Paravel. Those who barricaded themselves inside Cair Paravel held out as long as they could, but the siege was finally broken and they surrendered. It was just about this time that, so rumors say, Queen Krisalyn disappeared. If anyone knows what happened to her, no one is saying."

Peter felt his heart clench again with worry, but he again forced it from his mind. Now was not the time to be worrying about his wife. Wherever she was, she had to be safe. He had no doubt that if the Telmarines had captured Krisalyn, everyone in Narnia would know it. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Please, continue good Dwarf."

Trumpkin shrugged. "After they captured Cair Paravel, the Telmarines began hunting the Narnians down systematically. The Narnians fled into the deepest parts of the woods, and when the Telmarines followed us in, the Narnians would ambush them. After almost a year of this, the Telmarines stopped going into the woods, and the Narnians stopped coming out. Most of the Telmarines now believe that the Narnians are extinct, so our lives have been mostly peaceful, but we don't dare to venture far beyond the woods."

'What about the trees?" Lucy asked. "They are so quiet…"

"Many of the dryads were killed when the Telmarines began cutting down the trees to make their homes and cities," Trumpkin replied disgustedly. "The rest retreated so deeply into the trees that they've never been heard from again."

Edmund and Peter exchanged glances. "Trumpkin, you say the Narnians never leave the woods. How is it that you were captured?" the Just King asked.

"Two days ago I was at Trufflehunter's place with Nikabrik the Black Dwarf," Trumpkin answered. "There was a disturbance from outside, and we went out to see what was going on. A Telmarine soldier was lying on the ground outside and he was apparently being pursued by other soldiers. I was about to take care of him with my sword, when I noticed an ivory horn lying on the ground beside him."

Susan gasped. "My horn! But how did a Telmarine soldier get hold of it, or even know what it was?"

Trumpkin shrugged. "The Telmarines may have gotten hold of it when they captured Cair Paravel. I wanted to know why he had it, so I left him lying there and told Nikabrik to take care of him. I went after the other Telmarines that were pursuing him. I heard him sound the horn, but then it cut off. I looked back to see that Nikabrik had knocked him out, and then I was knocked out and taken prisoner."

Peter frowned deeply. "So the Telmarines know the Narnians still exist."

Trumpkin nodded. "Oh yes. I was hauled into the Telmarine Council and I overheard their Lord Protector Miraz say something about Prince Caspian, and also that he intended to eliminate all of the Narnians if it meant getting Prince Caspian back."

Peter's eyes narrowed dangerously. "It sounds like the soldier that was being chased was Prince Caspian. But why would the Telmarines be chasing their Prince?"

Trumpkin shook his head. "I don't know."

Peter sighed as he considered everything that Trumpkin had told them. After a moment, he looked back at the Dwarf. "Trumpkin, what happened when Archenland beat back the Calormens? Did they send additional troops?"

Trumpkin shrugged. "I don't know. I was still a young Dwarf at that time, since it was almost twenty-three years ago. My father was working with the resistance, but I don't believe that Archenland ever did send reinforcements to aid us. King Cor –"

All four Pevensies smiled at that for a moment, making Trumpkin pause in his recitation. The Dwarf looked at them, puzzled. "What did I say?"

Peter chuckled softly. "King Cor. We went to Archenland to celebrate the birth of he and his twin brother Corin, and Queens Susan and Lucy and King Edmund were in Calormen when Cor was found, after having been missing for ten years." He shook his head, remembering. "But, please, continue."

Trumpkin still looked skeptical. "King Cor did send a message, I believe, but I don't know what was in it. But I don't believe they ever launched a counter-invasion of Narnia against the Telmarines. They do aid us by sending supplies clandestinely at times. Because of the Telmarines' fear of the woods, the gryphons are able to fly over the border to fetch supplies and bring them back."

Peter frowned slightly before he glanced over at his siblings. Susan and Lucy were visibly upset at what Trumpkin had told them, and while Edmund appeared calm, Peter knew that his Just brother was inwardly seething at what had happened to their beloved home. Peter was also upset. Narnia's welfare, as a whole, had always fallen on his shoulders and to know what had happened because he and his family weren't there to stop it…it was a bitter pill to swallow.

Peter turned back to Trumpkin. "Can you take us to the Narnians?"

* * *

Trumpkin knew where the Narnians were likely to go if they felt that they were once again in danger from the Telmarines. Fortunately, it wasn't far from the River, just north a short ways and then inland to the east. Trumpkin thought that it would take them about a day's walk to reach it, which meant they would be there just after mid-day the next day.

After Peter and Edmund put their now-dry shirts back on, Trumpkin led the way, skirting the edge of the forest that surrounded the Dancing Lawn and heading inland. It was a strange little procession that they made. Peter and his siblings were still dressed in their English clothes, the likes of which had only rarely been seen in Narnia. None of them were armed, which meant they would have to be extra cautious, because if what Trumpkin had overheard was true, the Telmarines were still searching for their missing prince. If they were caught, they wouldn't be able to defend themselves.

None of them were quite sure where they were going. Trumpkin had called it Aslan's How, but that name meant nothing to the Pevensies, except for the fact that it was named for Aslan. The dwarf had assured them that it was quite defensible, and had in fact been constructed at the suggestion of the Faun Tumnus when word first reached Cair Paravel of the Telmarine invasion.

"Mr. Tumnus suggested it?" Lucy asked, pleased to hear news of her first friend in Narnia.

Trumpkin nodded. "So the stories say."

Lucy hesitated for a moment. "Trumpkin, whatever happened to those who defended Cair Paravel? The Beavers and Tumnus, General Oreius and the others?"

Trumpkin frowned. "I don't know about the centaur Oreius, since he traveled with the army to fight off the Telmarines. If he survived, I had never heard of it. The Beavers and the other defenders of the Cair vanished at the same time as Queen Krisalyn. Some say that together they helped the Queen escape just before Cair Paravel fell, but what happened after that has been lost."

Edmund looked skeptical. "In only twenty years?"

Trumpkin shook his head. "Twenty-five, and yes. The Narnians were scattered when Cair Paravel fell, and along with it were all the records. It took years just for the Narnians to come together, and if a group left Cair Paravel specifically for the purpose of getting the Queen to safety, they never rejoined the others."

Peter sighed at the thought. That no one knew what had become of his wife and child was deeply troubling him. He was certain, however, that if it had looked like Cair Paravel would fall, that the Council would have done everything in their power to get Krisalyn and the child to safety, even if she refused to go. She had family in Archenland, which made it the most logical place for her to go. Cor would never deny his cousin and her child refuge.

Susan stepped closer to her brother. "Don't worry, Peter. Everything will be fine."

Peter smiled half-heartedly at his sister, grateful that she was trying to keep his spirits up. He was getting tired of hearing them say that everything would be fine, but until they had solid proof of what had happened, that was all the comfort that they could offer him.

_Sometimes,_ Peter reflected to himself, _sometimes the burden of being High King is too much even for me to carry. Like now. _Not knowing what had happened to his wife, but knowing that he had to put Narnia's welfare, and that of her people, ahead of his own personal needs was not always easy for him. Fortunately, the conflict had only rarely come up during the fifteen years that they had ruled Narnia. The only time when he had found himself torn in this way was after Krisalyn had lost their first baby. They had tried so hard to get past their grief, but it had, up to that point, been the hardest thing they had ever had to cope with.

But just after Krisalyn had miscarried, word had come that there was trouble up near Ettinsmoor. The giants were supposedly stirring for an attack on Narnia, and Peter had been forced to leave Krisalyn to deal with it. Fortunately, Lucy and Susan had still been at Cair Paravel to help, and Edmund had come along with Peter, but the separation, so soon after the tragedy had been difficult for both of them, and when Peter had returned after quelling the unrest in Ettinsmoor…well, it hadn't helped.

_Peter and Edmund rode up to castle at the head of their victorious regiment of troops who had accompanied them to Ettinsmoor to settle the rumors of unrest among the giants. This wasn't the first time they'd had to do so, and it wouldn't be the last._

_Edmund noticed that his brother seemed glad to be home. During the – thankfully – brief campaign, he had noticed that whenever they weren't discussing strategy or actually engaged in battle, Peter had been very melancholy and had kept to himself. Edmund knew what was causing his brother to be so quiet as well. The recent loss of his unborn child, only a few weeks ago, had left his brother and sister-in-law grief-stricken._

_Their people had been very sympathetic to their King and Queen's loss, and very supportive. Lucy, Susan, and Edmund had taken over as many of Peter and Krisalyn's duties as they could in order to give them the time they needed to grieve. Peter and Krisalyn had appreciated their efforts, but when word came that the giants of Ettinsmoor were planning an attack, Peter had had no choice but to lead the regiment sent to deal with the situation._

_Edmund had offered to go alone, with General Oreius as his second-in-command, but Peter had pointed out that Ettinsmoor was part of the Northern Marches, and it was his area of responsibility. Krisalyn had understood, and had urged Peter to go. Although she had wanted him to stay, she had known that he needed to go, that it was part of his duty as High King._

_Together the two Kings entered the courtyard of their castle and, turning in their saddles, dismissed the troops that followed them so that they could go home to their own families. The soldiers all saluted their Kings before beginning to disband. Peter and Edmund turned back to the steps of the castle and dismounted. Servants came out to take the Kings' horses and gear to be cleaned and taken up to their rooms._

_Peter looked up at the steps leading to the great doors and saw both of his sisters and his wife standing at the top of the steps, smiles on their faces as they waited to welcome he and Edmund home. The two brothers ascended the steps together and smiled at the waiting women._

_Lucy broke the line first and ran into Peter's arms. Despite the fact that she was twenty years old, she still fit easily into Peter's arms. He reached down and embraced her tightly as Susan came over to hug Edmund, with Krisalyn right behind her. After a moment, Lucy broke the hug and moved over to greet Edmund. Susan stepped aside to give her room before walking over to her older brother and giving him a brief hug as well. They were the two oldest, and while there was a great deal of caring and affection between them, they showed it in different ways than they did with their two younger siblings._

_As Susan stepped back, Krisalyn stepped forward to greet her husband. She smiled at him, although Peter could see that there was still a bit of strain in her features, and she was rather pale. He reached forward and pulled her into his arms, dropping a deep kiss on her lips, not caring that they were in public. The last three weeks had been stressful for him and at times he had wanted nothing more than to have Krisalyn with him. Her gentle voice and words of encouragement would have helped immensely during the campaign._

_As they broke the kiss, Peter pulled her forward so that her head rested on his shoulder and he reached out and smoothed her black hair away from her forehead before leaning down and dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. He sighed. _This _was home for him. He felt a great deal of the strain and stress melting away just because he was able to hold her in his arms._

"_Kris, beloved," he murmured against her hair. "It's good to be home."_

"_I'm glad you're back, Peter. I've missed you," she whispered. She looked up at him, and he could see that some of the color had returned to her cheek, and some of the strain had faded, although she still looked pale and tired. Concern welled up in him._

"_Are you well, Kris?" he asked her softly._

"_As well as can be expected, my lord," she replied softly. "I will not say that everything has been perfect while you have been away, but I've managed."_

_Peter didn't like the sound of that. He knew that Kris was still upset about the son that they had lost, as was he, but he had had other things on his mind of late, and he'd been able to push his grief aside in order to deal with the unrest in Ettinsmoor. He'd had Edmund and Oreius with him to help keep him focused on what needed to be done, and he'd managed._

_Releasing his wife, he grasped her hand and started to lead her inside. After a few steps he paused and turned back to his siblings. He started to excuse them, but Susan shook her head._

"_Go on, Peter. I ordered a hot bath drawn for you, and you and Kris have a lot to catch up on. We'll see you at dinner."_

_Peter smiled, the first truly genuine smile he'd felt since the night when his child had been lost. "Thanks, Su. We'll see you at dinner."_

_Edmund pouted as Peter started to turn away. "You mean I have to order my own bath?"_

_Lucy reached out and smacked him, gently, trying to repress a giggle. "Of course not, Ed. I took care of it for you. Now get out of here. You smell like horse, sweat, and dirt."_

_Peter chuckled as he and Krisalyn began walking towards the doors again and he heard Edmund's protest behind him. "What do you expect, Lu? I've been out on campaign, and I just spent the last three days on horseback."_

_His siblings' banter faded as Peter and his wife entered the castle and headed for the stairs which would take them to their apartments in the tallest tower of the castle. As they passed servants and friends in the halls, everyone greeted their returned King and his Queen, and Peter had the presence of mind to return their greetings, even though all he wanted at the moment was to be alone with Kris, followed by a hot bath, hot food, and about a week's worth of sleep._

_Normally the walk to his apartments didn't bother him, but as weary as he was, each step seemed to sap more and more of his strength before he reached his door. Krisalyn reached out and pushed the door open, and led him inside. Peter closed the door behind them and made sure that it was firmly latched before he pulled Krisalyn back to him and captured her lips again with another searing kiss._

_When they finally broke for air, Krisalyn leaned her weight against him. "I'm so glad that you're home safe and uninjured, Peter. I've been so worried."_

_Peter reached down and lifted her chin so he could meet her eyes. "Why were you worried? I had Ed and Oreius watching my back. Nothing was going to happen."_

"_I couldn't help it, Peter," Krisalyn confessed. "We just lost our son…I couldn't bear the thought of losing you too in such a short time."_

_Peter moved to speak but she reached up and placed a hand over his lips. "I know you've had dealings with the giants before, and you know how to handle them. I know you had Edmund and Oreius guarding you, and the entire regiment backing you up. But I couldn't help myself. It might have been irrational worry, but I couldn't stop it."_

_Peter looked down at her. "Krisalyn. You know that I'll _always_ come back to you, don't you? I love you so much. My life has had so much more meaning with you in it. I could never abandon you, or leave you wondering what happened to me." He stared deeply into her intense eyes, which were beginning to fill with tears of relief as the last of the stress in her features began to drain away now that he was home and safe. "I swear it, Kris. I'll never leave you."_

_Krisalyn's eyes had widened at Peter's words. "Peter, you can't promise that. We never know what the future holds."_

_Peter shook his head and kissed her again. As soon as he broke the kiss, he looked her right in the eyes. "Only Aslan could ever keep us apart, Krisalyn, and I don't believe that he could be so cruel as to do that. I'll always be there for you and our family."_

_Krisalyn leaned against him again and rested her head on his shoulder. "Aslan forbid that we would ever be parted like that," she murmured, tears beginning to creep down her cheeks._

_Peter wrapped his arms around her and rocked back and forth slowly, giving her the comfort that she obviously needed and had been lacking while he had been gone. He stood there, holding her for several long minutes before she broke away._

"_Go take your bath, Peter," she told him softly. "You smell worse than your brother."_

"_For good reason," Peter replied, a small grin creeping over his lips. "I'm the High King. I have to do everything better than him. It's expected of me."_

_Krisalyn laughed. "I think that this might be one thing that you _don't_ want to do better than Edmund," she teased him. "Now go, before I have to hold you down and scrub you clean myself."_

_Peter winked saucily at her. "That doesn't sound that bad to me, if you're planning on joining me."_

_Krisalyn's jaw dropped open and she swatted his arm. "Go! I don't want to see you again until you're clean and you have clean clothes on. Toss those things to the side, they're going to need a thorough washing before they're fit to be seen or worn again."_

_Peter pouted as he turned towards their bathing room. "Does that mean that you're not going to join me?"_

"_Not this time," Krisalyn shot back. "Now go! Dinner starts in just over an hour and you have a lot of work to do to get ready. I'll find you some clean clothes and bring them in shortly."_

_Peter laughed and headed for the bath that was waiting for him. He closed the door and proceeded to strip his dirty, sweat-stained, horse-smelling clothes off. He had to admit that Lucy and Krisalyn had been right, since he was starting to be able to smell himself._

_Steam rose invitingly from the tub and he could smell that his wife had already added his favorite bath salts to it, given the clean scent of sandalwood that rose on the steam. Clean towels had been set out for him, along with a thick, absorbent robe and house shoes. Peter stepped over to the tub and eased himself down, gasping at the feel of the hot water on his skin. It wasn't long before he was up to his neck, soaking the aches of the campaign out along with the sweat and horse smell that had been clinging to him for the last three days._

_Krisalyn entered a few minutes later, a pile of clothes in her arms. Peter lazily opened his eyes and stared up at her as she left them on the small table across the room in front of the mirror. "Are you sure you won't join me?" he asked._

"_As tempting as it sounds," she teased, "there's no time right now. I wouldn't be able to get ready if you distract me."_

_Peter sighed heavily and nodded, ducking his head under the water in preparation to washing it. When he surfaced a moment later, water dripping from his hair, he looked up at her. "I don't suppose I could at least get another kiss?" he asked._

"_Will it get you out of the tub sooner?" Krisalyn asked, standing with her hands on her hips in mock-impatience._

_Peter pretended to consider. "It might."_

_Krisalyn sighed dramatically and moved over to the tub, pushing up her sleeves so the silk wouldn't get wet. Leaning over the edge of the tub, she lowered her lips to meet Peter's as he pushed himself upright. For a moment he was tempted to pull her into the tub with him, but he knew she wouldn't appreciate it._

_She kissed him gently, before pulling back. Looking down at him she smiled. "You'd better hurry, Peter. Dinner will be soon, and you must be starving."_

"_I am," he replied, his voice husky. "For something besides food."_

"_Peter!" she protested. Steeping away from the tub, she frowned down at him. "Hurry up and finish Peter, or we'll be late." Turning away, she exited the room, pulling the door closed behind her so Peter could finish getting ready in private._

_Peter sighed. As wonderful as the hot water felt, he knew that Krisalyn was right. Quickly soaping up, he dunked back under the water to rinse himself off. He pulled himself out of the tub and reached for a towel so he could begin drying himself off._

Peter smiled to himself as he remembered that night. Dinner had been wonderful, and being home with his family and Kris had done a great deal to ease the stress that being away so soon after Kris lost the baby had brought. Everyone had been glad to welcome their Kings home, and knowing that they had returned victorious, having once again secured peace for Narnia, made their return all the sweeter.

The smile faded from his face as he remembered what had happened after dinner when he and Krisalyn were alone in their rooms together again.

_Peter closed the door and leaned wearily against it. The last few weeks had been so exhausting. He hated being out on campaign, for more reasons than just the fact that it meant that Narnia was in danger. The hard travel, the rough conditions, the feeling of always needing to be tense in case of an attack…it sapped his strength it a way that not even the busiest week at Court could do._

_For the last three days, his attention had been focused on getting his troops home, and he had shoved his weariness aside. Now that he had gotten himself clean, and had a good, solid meal, the weariness was coming back in force. He and Krisalyn had chosen to retire from dinner early, simply because Peter was so tired. Edmund was just as tired and had nearly fallen asleep over his soup._

_Krisalyn had gone to the wardrobe to select a nightgown and her robe, and she turned and saw Peter leaning against the door. She frowned and tossed her nightgown and robe onto the bed before stepping over to Peter. "Peter? Are you all right?"_

_Peter opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Just tired, Kris. The last three weeks are finally catching up with me."_

_Krisalyn sighed and leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his back. She rested her head against his chest, craving the contact with him that she hadn't had for three weeks. Susan and Lucy had been incredibly supportive, but it wasn't the same thing as having her husband here with her._

"_I've missed you so much, Peter. The last few weeks have felt like one unending nightmare. Everyone has been supportive, but it hasn't been the same thing. I know you needed to go, and I know that I forced you to go…but I didn't think how hard it would be."_

_Peter wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I know, Kris. If it hadn't been so serious, I wouldn't have left. You know that, right?"_

_Krisalyn nodded. "I needed you to be here, Peter, but I know why you had to leave. Your responsibilities as King come first. I've always understood that, but that doesn't make it easier, especially after our son…"_

_Peter closed his eyes, the painful reminder stabbing through him and making him tighten his arms. "I know, Krisalyn. I know. The hardest thing I had to do was to keep my focus on the campaign instead of you and our baby. Edmund was wonderful about helping me keep focused."_

_Krisalyn sighed. "I'm just glad to have you home, Peter. I hope you don't have to leave again any time soon. I need you here with me."_

"_I wish I could promise that, love, but you know there's never any guarantees." Peter pulled back slightly so he could look her in the face. "Just remember that as long as I have any choice, I'll always come back to you."_

The emotion, the relief of being reunited had been incredible and it had led to a chance for them to purge the feelings that they had been harboring for the past three weeks. Despite her understanding, Krisalyn had been a little resentful that he hadn't been able to be there when she needed him most, and Peter had been resentful that she had pushed him into going with the troops when he wanted to be there. It had been one of the few real fights that they had had, but once the strain and stress and resentment had been purged, their relationship had been stronger than ever.

Peter sighed. All he could hope was that they could resolve the situation with the Telmarines as soon as possible so that he could then go and find Krisalyn and reunite with her again. But Narnia had to come first, of course, as it always did. That was part of the burden of being the High King, and it was part of the oath that he had sworn to Aslan when they had taken the thrones.

_Soon, Kris,_ Peter thought as he followed Trumpkin towards the Narnian refuge. _Soon enough we'll be together again. I promised I would always come back for you, and I intend to keep my word._


	11. Chapter 10: What dreams may come?

**Author's Note: **_*sigh* Here's another update for you, but I really need to do more to control either my muse or these characters…they keep running away from me, and now that I'm not sick anymore, I have to chase them. Not that I particularly mind, but it's so much fun to tease them…*shakes head* Don't mind me, I'm strange._

_**Chapter Ten: "…what dreams may come?"**_

They walked for the rest of the day, heading steadily east towards Aslan's How. All four of the Pevensies were curious to know what this refuge was, and why it was considered so important to the Narnians. The area they were walking through didn't seem to be strategically important in any way, but now that they were away from the river, both Edmund and Peter were having some difficulty mapping their location in their minds and trying to remember what was around them that could be considered strategic.

They had skirted the woods that surrounded the Dancing Lawn before moving out into a mostly clear area free of the woods for several hours before Trumpkin led them back into the woods again. The trees continued to loom over them, still and silent, and now that they knew the reason for the trees' silence, the Pevensies wanted more than ever to restore Narnia to the way that they remembered it.

Lucy was walking beside Peter, just behind Trumpkin and still looking around at the trees. She looked up at her older brother. "Peter, did we cause this?"

Peter looked down at her and frowned. "What do you mean, Lu?"

"If we'd still been here, if we hadn't gone hunting for the White Stag…could we have stopped the Telmarines? Could we have prevented this?" Lucy asked, her voice subdued, but desperately wanting reassurance.

Peter drew her to a stop and knelt down so that he could meet her eyes directly. Edmund and Susan came to a stop just behind them and listened as Peter answered. "This isn't our fault, Lucy. If we had known what would have happened, we never would have gone after the Stag. If we had known there was a threat from the Telmarines, we would have had some sort of plan in place to counter their initial invasion. There was no way we could have known what going after the Stag would do."

Lucy looked close to tears as Trumpkin realized that they were no longer behind him and turned around, moving back to rejoin them. "But it's so silent…how could Aslan have let this happen?"

"Aslan?" Trumpkin asked, overhearing the youngest Queen's question. "Thought he abandoned us when you lot did. There's been no sign of him despite the hopes of all the others who believed he would come and help us route the Telmarines during the initial invasion and rebellion."

"Aslan wouldn't abandon Narnia," Peter replied. "Whatever reason he has for not assisting, it will turn out to be for Narnia's greater good." He looked back at Lucy and smiled at her in encouragement. "We'll do what we can, and we'll put the rest in Aslan's paws. Whatever plan he has for us, I have no doubt that it will unfold as it should."

Lucy returned his smile with a wavering one of her own, before flinging her arms around her brother's neck and burying her face in his neck. He held her and gently rubbed her back until he felt her pulling back. She straightened up and wiped at the last few traces of tears on her cheeks. "Thanks, Peter," she whispered softly. "I shouldn't have doubted Aslan. He always has our best interests at heart."

Peter reached out and gently tweaked her nose, drawing a small smile and a soft giggle out of her. "All better now?" he asked.

Lucy nodded, and Peter rose to his feet. "Let's press on then," the High King said, turning back to Trumpkin. "The Narnians will need us."

Trumpkin only nodded and started off again, leading them towards Aslan's How and the waiting Narnians.

* * *

"How are we going to get across this?" Peter asked, looking down at a gorge that cut across their path. Far at the bottom was a swift-moving, shallow stream that flowed towards the River. He looked to Trumpkin. "That little stream cut this huge gorge in twenty-five years?"

Trumpkin shook his head. "About ten years ago there was a shaking in the earth. It was relatively minor, but it caused the gorge to deepen dramatically, and it made the stream flow faster than it had. There used to be a natural bridge that spanned the gorge, but two years ago the winter rains and the snow storms were devastating to this area, and the bridge collapsed. Most people cut through the Dancing Lawn to bypass this area these days."

Peter sighed at the thought of yet another detour and delay. "Is there no other way that won't require us to backtrack almost a full day?" he asked.

Trumpkin frowned in thought while the others moved closer to the edge of the gorge to study the river or to look and see if there was a trail down.

Lucy, however, gazed across the gorge as the others began to talk quietly among themselves. "Aslan?"

The sound of the Lion's name caught the attention of the others as Lucy spun around and pointed across the gorge. "It's Aslan! It's Aslan over there! Don't you see? He's right…there…" the younger Queen's voice trailed off as she realized that the great Lion was no longer in sight.

Peter and the others were following her gaze, but there was no one on the far side of the gorge. Trumpkin looked skeptical. "Do you see him now?"

Lucy turned a fearsome glare on the dwarf. "I'm not crazy. He was there. He wanted us to follow him."

Peter looked thoughtful and Susan and Edmund both looked between their older and younger siblings, waiting for Peter's decision. Peter looked down at Lucy for a moment. "Where did he want us to follow him to?"

Lucy hesitated for a moment as she studied the landscape, trying to figure out how to get them across the gorge to where Aslan was. "I'm not sure, but he was definitely indicating that he wanted us to follow him."

"Look, I'm not about to jump off a cliff after someone who doesn't exist," Trumpkin stated sardonically. "There are a lot of lions in these woods."

Edmund turned to Trumpkin. "The last time I didn't believe Lucy, I ended up looking pretty stupid. Lucy has always had a strong connection with Aslan. If she says he was there, I say that we need to trust her, and trust Aslan."

Peter was still weighing their options in his mind. They needed to get across the gorge, and he was not keen on the idea of back-tracking all the way to the Dancing Lawn and then cutting through the woods again. There were too many possibilities that something could go wrong, and they were not armed. _Lucy has never been wrong before where Aslan is concerned_, he reminded himself, thinking of all the times that Lucy's faith in the great Lion had paid off.

Unbidden, Lucy's words to him on the train came back into the forefront of his mind. "_**You claim to trust Aslan and to believe in the plan he has for us, but you spend all your time alone. We had to work together to beat Jadis and to rule as well as we did. All you need is faith in Aslan, and us. I trust Aslan, Peter. He won't abandon us. He has some purpose for us being here, and then we'll go back to Narnia. We're the Kings and Queens. We **__**have**__** to return, but you have to have faith, Peter. Don't just say it. Live it."**_

"All right, Lucy. I don't know why he wouldn't show himself to all of us, but if you say that he was there, I believe you," Peter said softly, smiling down at his sister.

"So do I," Susan echoed, and Edmund stepped forward and rested his hand gently on his younger sister's shoulder, in clear agreement with her. All four royals turned to look at Trumpkin, who still looked uncertain, but finally shrugged.

"Where did you see him?" Peter asked gently.

Lucy stepped closer to the edge of the gorge, and Peter stepped close behind her, ready to catch her if she slipped. "It was right about…" she stepped closer, before suddenly plummeting downward, a sharp scream torn from her throat as the ground gave way beneath her.

Peter lunged forward as soon as she started to fall. He grabbed her arm and tried to catch her, but, small as she was, her weight was still enough to throw him off balance, and he felt himself tumbling forward as she continued to fall.

"Lucy! Peter!" Susan and Edmund cried as they disappeared from sight.

Their fall was abruptly cut off by a ledge that had been hidden from their view due to a rocky outcropping. Lucy hit the ground on her rear, and Peter landed on his stomach next to her, his gut impacting with a rock and driving the breath out of him with a _whoosh_.

Lucy looked up at Edmund, Susan, and Trumpkin, who were all peering down at her from the edge of the upper level. "…here," she finished with a wry tone in her voice.

"Are you two all right?" Edmund asked.

Lucy nodded. "I'm all right." She looked over at Peter, who was wheezing as he tried to suck in a breath. "Peter? Are you all right?"

Peter couldn't answer at first. The rock he had impacted had driven all the breath out of him and he was having difficulty regaining it. He managed to roll off of the rock, despite the sharp pain that jarred through him at the motion. He had no doubt that he'd have a bruise across his mid-section by the end of the day.

"Peter?" Lucy asked, a note of concern in her voice when Peter didn't respond right away. She leaned over so that he could see her, since he was lying on his back looking up at the rock above him. "Are you all right?" she repeated.

Peter held up a hand to push her back and nodded, finally managing to get control of his breath. He coughed several times before he nodded again. "I'm fine, Lu. Just had the wind knocked out of me."

Lucy smiled in relief. "I'm glad. You scared me for a minute."

"Sorry," Peter answered. "You scared me when the ground gave way." He sat up, slowly, hiding the wince at the pain. _Definitely going to have a bruise_, he thought. "Well, it looks like you were right," he added, looking at the path that was cut into the side of the gorge, the path that had previously been hidden by the ledge the others were still standing on. He rose to his feet and pulled Lucy upright so that Edmund, Susan, and Trumpkin could make their way down onto the path without slipping.

"Lead the way, Lu," Edmund told his little sister. "You're the one who saw Aslan."

Lucy began picking her way carefully down the path, which was overgrown and somewhat slick. Peter was right behind her, ready to steady her if she slipped. The other three followed carefully, putting enough distance between them so that if one of them slipped, they wouldn't take the whole column with them.

They reached the stream, which was flowing quite swiftly. Lucy led them along the streambed until they reached a place where there was a natural bridge of stepping stones leading across the river. Lucy started across and the others followed. Wherever Aslan wanted them to be, it was obvious that Lucy was trying to do her best to get them there.

Once they were across the stream, Lucy turned to Trumpkin. "Do you know how to get back up to the top of the gorge?"

Trumpkin looked around and after a moment, he nodded and began to lead them back upstream. They walked a short distance before they found another path leading up to the top of the gorge. Trumpkin led the way up the path, and a short time later they were standing at the top on the opposite side of the gorge.

"It's not too much further now," Trumpkin said, leading them on again. "I don't know if we'll make it before nightfall though. Do you want to stop tonight, or do you want to press on to the How?"

Peter considered. While his preference would be to keep going and to reach safety that much sooner, he knew it wasn't safe to travel by night, especially if the Telmarines were looking for their missing prince. "Let's get as far as we can before we have to stop," he finally said. "Maybe, with Aslan's grace, we'll make it to the How before nightfall."

Trumpkin nodded and set off again, the four royals trailing him.

* * *

Unfortunately for Peter, they didn't make it to the How before the sunset.

Trumpkin led them to a small grove among the trees and they set camp there. Edmund and Peter found enough small stones to make a fire ring while the girls gathered firewood. Trumpkin disappeared into the trees and came back a short time later with two small rabbits.

Peter frowned deeply at the dwarf until Trumpkin reassured him that they were not Talking rabbits. Peter sighed, but didn't protest as Trumpkin began skinning them with a small dagger he produced from inside his boot. While the Talking Animals were off limits as prey of any kind, not all the Animals had been given the gift of speech by Aslan, and those were fair game to the Narnians, who had to eat.

Before long, they were sitting down to a hot meal over the fire. Conversation was almost non-existent, as the Pevensies thought about everything that had happened to their beloved kingdom during their absence. Finally, Edmund broached the silence.

"Trumpkin, do you know what exactly was happening in Archenland that kept them from coming to assist Narnia during the invasion? Before we left, we'd just helped them repel an invasion by Prince Rabadash, who was unable to leave Tashbaan afterwards, thanks to Aslan."

Trumpkin shrugged. "Don't know for sure, but I don't believe that Prince Rabadash had anything to do with it."

Peter sighed. "I have trouble believing that the Telmarines just happened to attack at the same time as Calormen, but I also know that Calormen would never work with anyone else, especially if it would give anyone else Narnia."

Lucy looked at her brother. "It really could just be a coincidence, Peter."

Peter looked back at Lucy levelly. "Maybe, Lu. I just don't believe it. It's too convienient that Calormen would attack Narnia's closest allies at the same time that Narnia herself is under attack."

Susan shrugged, drawing Peter's gaze. "Maybe it is convienient Peter, but does it really matter? Whatever the reason for Calormen choosing that moment to attack, it doesn't change the fact that they did and that it kept Archenland from sending reinforcements to help Narnia against the Telmarines. What's done is done. All we can do is try to put things back to rights and try to see that this doesn't happen again."

Peter was quiet for a short time before he finally sighed. "You're right, Susan. Whatever caused it, it must have been in Aslan's plans, or he would have stopped it." All four of the High King's companions sensed that he was still deeply troubled by the implications of Calormen's involvement in Narnia's fall, however indirectly it had come about.

Lucy scooted over to sit next to her brother and leaned her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "It'll be all right Peter. We'll set things right, somehow."

"I know, Lucy," Peter murmured as he leaned into her embrace.

The group sat in silence for a while before Trumpkin cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly. "We'll have another long walk tomorrow. I suggest that everyone get some sleep. We should be safe enough here."

"That's probably sound advice, good Trumpkin," Peter said, raising his head and looking at the dwarf. "But we should probably set a watch, just to be on the safe side."

"I'll take the first watch, Peter," Edmund said before Peter could volunteer himself for the first watch. "We'll need you at the top of your game tomorrow when we meet up with the rest of the Narnians."

"I'll take second watch," Susan volunteered, and before Peter could say anything, Trumpkin volunteered to take the last watch. Peter bristled and was about to say something before Lucy poked him in the side.

"Don't argue Peter. Edmund's right. We'll need you tomorrow, and you can't do that if you're exhausted. I'm sure there will be plenty of sleepless nights in our near future while we try to fix things," the youngest Queen chided gently. "Take what rest you can get while it's offered."

Peter glanced down at his younger sister before looking at his other two siblings. He opened his mouth to say something, but Edmund beat him to it.

"Good night, Peter," the younger King said saucily.

Peter grumbled but saw that he wasn't going to win the debate that night. After leaning over and kissing each of his siblings good night, he pulled off his jacket and rolled it up to use as a makeshift pillow. He heard the others settling down for the night and he could see Edmund turning so that his back was to the fire and his gaze on the trees around him.

* * *

A noise woke Peter from his sleep. He rolled over and saw Trumpkin sitting where he had last seen Edmund. The dwarf was keeping a careful eye on the woods around them, although he did look up when Peter sat up.

"Anything?" Peter whispered, so as not to wake up his siblings. Trumpkin shook his head and Peter indicated that he was going to step outside of the camp for a few minutes. Trumpkin nodded, and Peter rose to his feet and headed off into the trees to relieve the call of nature.

As he was heading back towards camp to get the others, the sound of a twig breaking off to his right caught his attention and he froze. He let his breath out slowly and twisted on the balls of his feet in order to keep his movements quiet.

A flash of gold caught his attention, and something about that flash was familiar and drew him forward. He stepped lightly over the leaves, drawing on everything that Oreius had ever taught him about moving silently, and he followed the glint of gold that kept appearing among the trees.

He approached a spot where the almost-hidden game trail he was following moved between two small rocky outcroppings. He paused as he reached the outcroppings, wondering if he should continue to follow the flash of gold, or if he should go back and get the others first.

He hesitated another moment, before deciding that it would be safer to go back for the others, since he was unarmed. Even though none of them had weapons except for Trumpkin's tiny knife, if they had strength in numbers they might be able to fight off any danger.

He started to turn to head back to the camp when a soft growl caught his attention and he paused again. There was something familiar about that growl, and for some reason, it didn't strike him as threatening.

"Peter?"

_That voice_, Peter thought turning back in the direction of the voice. It wasn't one of his siblings, but it was familiar to him. _It can't possibly be…_

"Peter? Is that you?"

"Krisalyn?" he breathed, moving forward, hardly daring to hope. He moved past the outcroppings and continued to follow the voice, until he came to a place where a small cluster of white birch trees stood in the early morning sun.

"Krisalyn?" he called softly, noticing that the glint of gold had faded and the voice could no longer be heard. He wondered if he had been dreaming. _I need to get over this,_ he told himself firmly. _I need to stop imagining that I can turn the corner and Kris will be there._

"Peter."

This voice was not female at all, but it was also familiar. Peter stepped forward several paces and peered among the branches of the birch trees as the soft growling sounded again. A moment later, he saw the glint of gold again and continued to walk forward through the birch trees.

A moment later, he could see what was causing the glint of gold and he sucked in a surprised breath. He knelt swiftly. "Aslan."

The great lion paced gravely forward and stopped in front of Peter. "Rise, High King."

Peter immediately rose to his feet at the gentle command. He looked at the warm, wise eyes and for a moment felt tears coming into his own. There was so much love, strength, and faith in Aslan's eyes…in that moment, thinking back on his recent behavior, Peter felt completely inadequate and inferior, both as High King of Narnia, and as Peter Pevensie. What would Aslan say about his recent behavior towards his siblings or the fight with Art in the train station? He had no doubt that Aslan knew all of it, somehow. The power in the lion's eyes…they seemed to weigh and measure him, to see right into his soul and know everything that had happened since Peter had last been in Narnia.

Aslan blinked, and the spell was broken. The great lion stood there, but now his eyes were welcoming and Peter couldn't resist any longer. He stepped forward and flung his arms around Aslan's neck and buried his face in the soft, golden mane. "Forgive me, Aslan," he whispered into the lion's neck before he straightened and met the golden eyes again.

"What have you done that you need my forgiveness, Peter?" the great lion asked calmly, sitting back and regarding Peter.

Peter didn't feel right standing in front of Aslan, so he dropped back to his knees again, placing his head below the lion's (which was only appropriate, since Aslan was King above all Kings). "I lost faith in you, Aslan, and in your wisdom. I have not acted with the dignity and attitude of the High King since our return to England," he answered softly. "I was so distraught over losing Krisalyn that I was rude to my family and to the people around me. It was a poor excuse for my behavior, and I have not been the High King that Narnia deserves."

Aslan regarded the High King with eyes filled with love. "What you say is true," the great lion responded after a moment, though there was not a single note of scorn or chiding in the rumbling voice. "However, I do understand and forgive you, Peter. Your actions are past, and you have come to admit and accept what you have done wrong, and you show maturity in being able to ask for my forgiveness, thus I grant it."

Rising to his feet, Aslan paced forward until he stood directly in front of Peter. Bending his great head, he opened his mouth and lightly breathed on Peter, the warm breath sending stands of blonde hair flying around his face as he pressed his tongue to Peter's forehead in a gentle kiss.

Peter bowed his head, fighting back tears. "Thank you, Aslan," he whispered, feeling as if he couldn't look at the lion until he had his emotions under control again. However, that chance was quickly yanked out from under him.

"Peter?"

Peter's head shot up and he looked past Aslan, to the figure that was weaving lightly between the white birch trees. Long black hair gleamed in the sunlight coming through the trees, and before Peter could stop himself (not that he particularly _wanted _to) he was on his feet and had shot past Aslan to catch his beloved wife up in his arms.

For long moments, all he could do was hold her in his arms and revel in the feeling of being with her again. Though it had only been four months for him (the single longest separation that they had experienced), it had been the hardest four months of his life, and he couldn't imagine what she had gone through since time flowed so differently in Narnia.

Finally he pulled back just enough to tip her chin up so that he could lean down and press a gentle kiss to her lips. Gentle it might have been, but he poured all of his loneliness, anger, joy, pain, and relief into it, and felt her returning it measure for measure. Finally, he broke the kiss and they both gasped for air, but Peter didn't release his wife. Instead he tucked her head underneath his chin and ran his hand over her hair, feeling the black tresses caressing his fingers.

"Oh, Kris," he murmured softy, unable to say anything else, so relieved was he to have her in his arms again.

"Peter," she breathed, her voice equally as soft. "I knew you'd return."

"I promised I would never leave you, Kris, and that I would always come for you. I'm sorry for what happened," he whispered, resting his face against the top of her head.

"I know," she replied softly.

"Forgive me?" he asked, desperately needing to know that she wasn't angry with him for his (inadvertent) abandonment of her.

She pushed away from him, just enough that she could look him directly in the face. She opened her mouth to speak…

…when the crack of a twig beneath a foot sounded. Peter's head whipped around, looking for the intruder…

* * *

Peter's eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly.

He was sitting on the ground near a burned-out fire, his siblings sound asleep around him, and Trumpkin sitting up on watch. The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky, and through the trees above his head, Peter could see that the moon had yet to descend below the horizon.

Peter sat there for a moment, blinking with disorientation, as Trumpkin looked at him, wondering at his sudden alertness. After a long moment, Peter sighed heavily and lay back down. It would soon be time to wake the others, but Peter knew they wouldn't start walking until the sun had fully risen, so there was no point in waking them just yet.

_It was just a dream_…he thought mournfully, and closed his eyes against the tears that threatened. _Why…oh, why couldn't it have been real?_ Why couldn't he truly have been reunited with Kris? Seen Aslan and received his forgiveness? Why did it only have to be a dream?

After a short time, he realized that he should have known it was a dream right away. Kris had not aged in the dream, and that should have been his first clue. His wife was many things, but eternally young was not one of them, and it had been twenty-five years in Narnian time since he had last seen her.

_Oh, Aslan…how much longer must I wait? I have tried to keep Narnia first in my heart and mind, for you taught me to love her…but you also gave me permission to love Krisalyn when you bound us in marriage…why must I choose between the two loves?_ Peter wondered, for once tired of always having to put Narnia's needs before his own, and then feeling instantly guilty for such a thought. He had understood, from the moment that Aslan told him that he would sit on the throne of Cair Paravel as High King, that his responsibility would always be first to Narnia, then to his family, and only then to himself.

When he and Krisalyn had wed, yet another responsibility had been added onto his shoulders, but it was one that he had taken on gladly, that of protecting and loving his wife. In return, she had taken on an equal burden of loving and supporting him, and due to the nature of their relationship and their love, his responsibilities had shifted so that now Narnia came first, followed by Krisalyn (and later the baby she had carried), then his siblings, and finally to himself.

Normally, this was not difficult for Peter, because his love for his country, his wife and child, and his siblings was so great. It was easy to set aside his own needs, because he knew that his family would do everything in their power to support him as he supported them. The only time it had truly been difficult to choose had been during those difficult days after Krisalyn had miscarried, and he had had his siblings' help in getting through it.

But now…after everything that had happened in recent months, after the dream…all the building hope, longing, and pain over what had happened to his beloved country, Peter was finding it difficult to remain objective. That realization _hurt_, like a stabbing pain in his heart. He, who was always so careful to put his duties ahead of his own needs…he was _tired_. And it hurt.

Peter sighed and rested his arm over his eyes, blocking out the rising sun. He was tired of the emotional pain that he had been living through for so long. It was a burden that had been weighing him down and affecting his close relationship with his siblings. He had apologized, and they had forgiven, but…and it might be his own sense of pride talking…but it wasn't enough. He was used to being the strong one, the leader, and he had been actively relying more on siblings since their return to Narnia than he had in years.

A small gasp and the sound of rustling beside him made him shift his arm off of his eyes to see Lucy sitting upright and looking about, slightly bewildered and confused. "Lu?" he called softly, so as not to wake Edmund or Susan, who were still deeply asleep. "What is it?"

Lucy blinked at him, confused for a moment before her face cleared. As Peter sat up, slowly, she moved around the circle to sit beside him. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

"I dreamed about Aslan, Peter," Lucy finally said, her voice quiet so as not to wake the other two. "I heard him calling me, and – in the dream – I got up and I walked among the trees. As I walked, they started to wake and they began to dance around me."

Peter smiled at the picture she painted with her words. His sister had always had a deep connection with the Dryads, and the trees often danced when she was around. He had no doubt that – like his own dream – it had been something familiar and comforting, and she had needed that as much as he had. "What happened then, Lu?" he asked.

"I came to a stand of white birch trees," she replied, and for a moment, he tensed, remembering the setting of his own dream. She felt his tension and looked up at him, puzzled, but only indicated for her to continue. "They were grouped together, but as I watched, they slowly parted and formed a passage for me to walk between them. Aslan's voice kept calling me, so I followed it, until I came to a small clearing just beyond the birches. Everything was bright and clean, and the sun was pouring through the trees."

She sighed, as if remembering something pleasant. "Aslan was standing there, on a small knoll, waiting for me."

"_Aslan!" Lucy breathed, racing across the forest floor to the knoll and right up to Aslan. She didn't pause, but threw her arms around the great lion and hugged him, kissing his face and burying her own face in his mane as his warm breath surrounded her and his voice rumbled in a loving chuckle._

"_I've missed you so much," she told him, pulling back so she could look into his eyes, the fingers of one hand still tangled in his mane. "You've grown."_

"_Every year you grow, so shall I," he told her, a warm smile on his face._

_She returned the smile before growing more serious. "Where have you been? Why haven't you come to help us?"_

"_Things never happen the same way twice, dear one," he replied softly, his warm golden eyes growing more solemn, with a hint of sadness in them. _

"_Aslan, could we have stopped this? Peter, Susan, Edmund, and I…could we have prevented all this if things had been different?"_

"_Some things are simply meant to be, and we can never know what might have happened," the great Lion replied softly._

_Lucy was about to say something else, when the sound of a twig cracking was heard. She whipped around to look..._

"…and suddenly, I was awake, looking over at Susan," the youngest Queen finished. "I don't know why I dreamed that, but it was so real, Peter."

Peter hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. "I know, Lucy. I dreamed about him too…and about Krisalyn."

Lucy looked interested, so Peter quietly related his dream to her, including the part where he had asked Aslan's forgiveness and received it. It was somewhat embarrassing to reveal how guilty he had felt to his little sister, who was used to seeing him as a leader, but he knew that she would understand. For all the fact that Susan was called the Gentle, there was quite a bit of gentleness and empathy in Lucy as well.

"Peter…you have nothing to feel guilty for," Lucy told him quietly, snuggling closer to her older brother. "It wasn't your fault that we left Narnia. You didn't break your promise to Krisalyn…and as soon as the situation is resolved with the Telmarines, we'll help you find her."

"Thank you, Lucy," he told her quietly, but sincerely. He simply held her and they sat in silence for another few minutes before he finally released her. "Come on. Let's wake the others so we can get started. I'll feel a lot better when we're in a place that is defensible. I don't like not having Rhindon with me."

Lucy nodded, and they rose together and turned their attention to waking up their siblings, unaware that Trumpkin had been listening to the entire conversation and was now watching the oldest and youngest monarchs intently.

**Don't forget to read and review!!!**


	12. Chapter 11: Aslan's How

_**Ok, I think this might be the single longest chapter to date...my characters just wouldn't let me stop writing! They just ran away with me. *looks at her poor, sore fingers* Please review so that I know this is all worth it!**_

**_Oh, and there's another little twist here for you, my loyal readers!_**

_**Chapter 11: Aslan's How**_

Edmund and Susan were not pleased to be woken so early, especially after the previous day's long walk. However, when they saw the looks on their siblings' faces, they rose, amid a great deal of grumbling and moaning about the earliness of the hour. Trumpkin watched with interest as the four monarchs drew themselves from the last traces of slumber and prepared to continue their journey.

Susan grumbled about having to wear her school uniform for yet another day. Peter looked at his siblings before glancing down at himself and he had to admit that they all looked rather battered and their once-pristine school uniforms were now in very sad shape. _It's not surprising that Trumpkin didn't believe that we are Narnia's monarchs, looking the way we do_, he thought wryly. _Well, once we reach the Narnians, hopefully there will be something that we can do to refresh ourselves, and perhaps some clean clothing as well._

As the mutters and good-natured complaints from his siblings died down, Peter looked at his siblings, knowing that his silence and his raised eyebrows asked his question for him, without him having to speak a word. It was a useful skill that came from ruling Narnia together closely for fifteen years. A gesture or a look could convey an entire conversation between the four of them, and they were all adept at reading the others' expressions. The closeness of their bond only helped that skill, and Peter knew that his siblings knew exactly what he was asking them.

One by one he received a slow nod and a smile or blink of the eye that gave him his answer. Peter turned to Trumpkin and looked at the Dwarf. "Lead on, good Trumpkin," the High King bid.

Trumpkin nodded and proceeded to lead the four royals out of the camp and along a nearly-invisible game trail. A few minutes out of the grove and the going became more difficult as the trail twisted and curved around small knolls, rocky outcroppings, and narrow "canyons" comprised of two outcroppings rising up next to each other, with a tiny path between them. The small group's pace slowed to a crawl as they picked their way along the trail. Trumpkin assured them that even at their current pace they would reach Aslan's How by mid-day, or shortly thereafter.

After a few hours walking, they passed through the rocky terrain and the ground leveled out. They were able to pick up their pace and make up some of the time that had been lost that morning. They walked in silence today, all of them aware that the Telmarines could be out looking for their prince, and that their luck of having been unassailed thus far could easily run out at any time. Peter led his siblings, following Trumpkin, while Edmund brought up the rear.

Near mid-morning, Trumpkin called a halt near a small, swift running stream that fed into a tiny pool near a grove of oak trees before continuing on it's way back towards the Great River. He looked around at their surroundings and seemed to be doing some mental calculations before nodding in satisfaction. He turned to Peter. "Another hour or two at this pace and we should reach the How."

Peter smiled gratefully at the dwarf and sat down on a log to rest his legs while the girls stepped over to the stream and took quick drinks and Edmund took a long look around. There was an odd look on Edmund's face, as if he was trying to place a long-forgotten memory. Peter frowned at his brother. "Edmund? Is something wrong?"

The younger King blinked and shook his head. "No, not really, Pete. Just a feeling that I should recognize this place, but I don't." He shrugged. "It's not important." He took a moment to stretch his arms and back before moving to sit next to Peter on the log, who obligingly scooted over to give him room.

"Are you, sure, Ed?" Peter asked softly, turning to look at Edmund, who still wore that puzzled, slightly intense look on his face.

Edmund smiled at his brother and the look faded. "I'm sure, Peter. It'll probably come to me later, it's just that feeling of knowing you forgot something, but you can't remember what it is that you forgot."

Peter knew that feeling all too well, so he nodded and dropped the subject. He also took the opportunity to stretch as their sisters came back over from the stream and sat down on another nearby log.

"Trumpkin," Susan began after a moment. The dwarf looked over at the older Queen, who waited until she had his attention. "You mentioned that this How was where the Narnians go in times of trouble, but you haven't really explained much about it to us, except that Mr. Tumnus suggested that it be built and that it is defensible."

The dwarf nodded. "Actually, it dates back a little further than that," he said. "Faun Tumnus suggested that it be constructed not long after you disappeared from Narnia. He felt that it was important that there be a place where the Narnians could go in times of trouble, either as a rallying point, or for an evacuation, if necessary. It's close enough to Cair Paravel that messages could be easily relayed, and, as I mentioned, it's quite defensible. Tumnus never could explain why he felt it was necessary, but the Queen and the rest of the Council – so the stories say – believed his argument and ordered the work to begin."

Lucy smiled at that, thinking of her best and first friend in Narnia. After the battle with the Witch, Tumnus had been appointed to their Council, and though there had been some skepticism and wariness at first, since he had been in the pay of the Witch, Lucy's steadfast defense of him, and the trust that the other monarchs offered, went a long way to easing the tension his presence caused. As he proved himself to be loyal to the new monarchs, the last of the suspicion had faded.

"At any rate, it wasn't long after the How's construction was complete that definitive word reached Cair Paravel about the invasion," Trumpkin continued. "The army was called up, and anyone in the path of the invading force retreated to the How. The last order issued by Queen Krisalyn before the army was defeated and Cair Paravel fell was that if any Narnian felt that there was great danger, they were to send messages out via the birds, and the Narnians were to rally at the How."

"But Krisalyn never showed up at the How?" Peter asked softly, fear clenching his heart.

Trumpkin shook his head. "I'm afraid not. My father was one of those who went to the How, and he said that the Narnians waited at the How for some time after Cair Paravel fell, since it was being used as the base of operations for the ambushes being run on the Telmarines when they ventured into the forest. Her Majesty never arrived at the How. Some said that she hadn't made it out past the Telmarines that laid siege to the castle and was captured. Others said that she had been killed, although most doubt that story. The general consensus is that she made it safely out and fled to Archenland in the hopes that she could convince them to send aid, despite the threat posed by the Calormens."

"But no word has come from her?" Peter asked, feeling his hopes fade a little bit. Krisalyn loved Narnia, and she had sworn to always stand and defend the country that had become hers when she married Peter. He couldn't believe that she would simply have abandoned Narnia and left them without word.

Trumpkin shook his head silently, but Peter could see a hint of compassion in his eyes. Whether or not Trumpkin consciously believed that Peter was the High King and that Krisalyn was his wife, Peter knew that in his heart, Trumpkin knew the truth and he sympathized with Peter, although he would never show it outwardly or speak of it.

They sat quietly for a few more minutes before Trumpkin heaved himself to his feet and indicated that they should continue on their journey. Peter and Edmund rose to their feet and stepped over to help Susan and Lucy up. The two girls accepted the help – though they didn't really need it – and they started out on their way again. This would hopefully be the last stretch before they reached their destination. Then…then they could begin restoring Narnia to her former glory.

* * *

_Peter stood at the edge of the clearing for a long moment, his siblings pressed close to him as they looked at what was just ahead of them._

_In the center of the clearing, surrounded by a circle of tall standing stones, was a massive stone block, supported by four thick, upright blocks. Now, however, the massive block lay at an odd angle, broken completely in half and incapable of distributing its weight evenly over the supporting stones. What remained of tightly twisted ropes and cords could still be seen lying across the Table._

_Peter took a deep breath and began to walk up the stone walkway that led to the Stone Table. As he walked, his hand unconsciously drifted to rest on Rhindon's hilt, and the closer they came, the tighter he gripped the sword, the power of the Table, broken as it was, still lingering in the air and affecting all of them._

_It had taken a great deal of convincing before Oreius had agreed to wait with the rest of the royal guard back at the place where their camp had been pitched. The four monarchs had wanted – __**needed**__ – to visit this place alone. All four of them were alert for danger, although they felt that there was little risk. This was the place of Aslan's great triumph, and what he had accomplished here had purged the dark aura that had – according to Oreius – surrounded the Stone as a result of all the sacrifices that had been made at this place in the years since Narnia's creation. Any Fell Creatures who still lingered would not be able to stand being in this place where the evidence of Aslan's power was so great._

_They approached the Table and simply stood there, looking down at it, feeling the lingering aura of Aslan's power that still surrounded the silent clearing. It was a humbling experience, and there was something…sacred about being here at this time and place._

_Tomorrow was the second anniversary of the battle of Beruna, the date of Narnia's freedom from the terror of the White Witch, and the day that had been unanimously elected the first day of Narnia's new year after the coronation, by popular demand of the Narnians._

_Aslan, Susan, and Lucy had not once, in the two years since they had become Kings and Queens of Narnia, said a word about what had happened in this place to Edmund. At the time, they had felt that Edmund still felt guilty about what had happened, and that he didn't need to know every detail of what had occurred the eve before the battle. The message that they had sent had only detailed that something had happened to Aslan and he would not be there to help in the battle. They hadn't wanted Edmund to guess what Aslan's deal with the Witch had been, though Peter had had a pretty good idea when word reached them the morning of the battle. Out of a desire to protect Edmund, he hadn't said anything, although he had demanded the truth from Susan and Lucy much later when Edmund wasn't around._

_Now, however, two years later, Edmund had finally put the pieces together and had confronted his siblings over the issue, demanding to know what had really happened. He had paled at the news that Aslan had sacrificed himself for the younger King, but other than that, he had taken the news very well. Two years of being King had gone a long way towards helping Edmund mature, and he was no longer the angry, rash young boy he had been. He could still be reckless at times, especially when one of his siblings was in danger, but for the most part he had steadied and become a King that Aslan could be proud of._

_After learning the truth about the deal with the Witch, Edmund had asked if they could go to the Stone Table so he could see it. In two years, he and Peter had not had any reason to go there, so this was the first time they were seeing the massive stone._

_Peter felt Edmund tremble slightly where he was pressed against his older brother, and Peter took his free hand and wrapped it around Edmund's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. He thought he knew what his brother was feeling. The idea that Aslan had voluntarily surrendered to the Witch, been tied down to that stone, and had a knife driven through his heart… Edmund had been so close to going through that. The stab of denial and pain that shot through Peter at that thought…it would never happen. Aslan had been the Stone Table's last sacrificial victim._

"Peter?"

Peter blinked and shook himself as Edmund's quiet question jarred him from his memories. He looked over at his brother, who gestured subtly ahead of them with a raised eyebrow. Peter nodded, understanding the message that his brother was sending, and turned to look in the direction they were walking.

Just ahead of them, the trees were thinning to an open, expansive clearing that was ringed by trees. At the far side of the field, just before the forest started again, rose a massive hill-like structure. In front of it was a set of very old ruins, with a paved walkway leading down into the How. Peter studied it, and it didn't take him long to realize that despite the trees and grass that crowned the hill and crept down the sides, it was not in anyway natural.

The hill rose in evenly spaced tiers, with a doorway set back into the main part of the hill, leaving a small ledge that could be used to place archers on. Peter wasn't certain, but from the angle he was looking at, it was possible that a few archers on each tier could feasibly hold off an army, provided they had plenty of arrows. Artificial or not, it was a solid piece of engineering, and looked quite defensible. Peter smiled at the thought that _his_ people – or rather, _their_ people – had constructed this place. It wasn't exactly subtle, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. An enemy would realize that it was well-built and defensible, and it would say something about the Narnians' ingenuity and skills.

Trumpkin led them to the edge of the trees before he paused. Peter and the others drew up alongside of him and looked at him. "What is it, Trumpkin?" Lucy asked quietly.

Trumpkin gestured in the direction of the How. "Sentries. Someone is here."

"That's good, right?" Edmund asked.

"Yes, and no," Trumpkin replied. He seemed to be weighing a decision in his mind, before he turned to Peter. "May I request that you wait here, Majesties? Allow me to go and find out who is in charge and bring them out here to meet you. If the sentries see a small group approaching, especially one with humans in it, they're likely to shoot first and ask questions later."

"That would be bad," Edmund muttered sarcastically.

Peter nodded. "He's got a point. We don't _look _like the Kings and Queens of Narnia, at least, not what the Narnians will be expecting from us. But they know Trumpkin, and if he can convince others and bring them out here to meet us, we'll be more likely to get a good reception from the others." He nodded to Trumpkin. "Go, good dwarf. We'll wait here for you to return."

Trumpkin nodded and stepped out into the clearing. He started walking across, raising his hand and waving to catch the sentries' attention. When he drew close enough that they could identify him, they waved back. Trumpkin approached the How and disappeared inside the main doorway.

"Now we wait," Peter said quietly, stepping over to a nearby tree and casually leaning against it. "I'm sure it won't take long for Trumpkin to convince anyone that we've come with him." He looked at his siblings, who all nodded in agreement. Whatever the Narnians' personal opinions about the apparent abandonment they had suffered at the hands of their Kings and Queens, none of them had any doubt that the Narnians still had hope that they would return and free them from the Telmarines. That hope had sustained the Narnians during the White Witch's everlasting winter, and Peter was certain that, deeply buried it might be, that hope was still there.

Thinking of the White Witch, however inadvertently, brought Peter's thoughts back to the visit at the Stone Table he had been thinking about before Edmund caught his attention. He wasn't sure why that particular memory had chosen that moment to surface, however. It had been a deeply personal moment for the four of them, not only seeing the Stone Table, but finally hearing the full story of what Susan and Lucy had witnessed the night before the battle.

There had been a lot of tears, a lot of commiserating, and a great deal of old baggage that they had aired that day in front of the Stone Table, but in the end, it had helped to strengthen their already strong bond and helped make them better rulers because they understood each other better and understood where they were all coming from, particularly Edmund, who had still been feeling a great deal of guilt over the whole situation.

Peter sighed quietly to himself so as to not draw his siblings' attention. The entire situation was eating at him, and despite what he had told Lucy, he felt some measure of guilt that they had not been there to help the Narnians repel the Telmarines. After their coronation, there had never been a successful invasion of Narnia before they went back to England. Most of that was thanks to Oreius and his very thorough training of the four of them. On the battlefield, Edmund and Peter had both been a force to be reckoned with, and when Susan and Lucy were factored into that equation as well...

Peter shook his head in remembrance. Susan had become one of the greatest archers that Narnia had, and it was not all due to the bow that Father Christmas had given her, because she had shown equal proficiency with other bows that were used by the army. Lucy had never learned swordplay, but Oreius had taught her well to use her dagger, and she never hesitated to do so when Narnia needed her to.

As for Edmund and Peter himself…they had been a lethal force. They had both become expert swordsmen, as well as superior tacticians under Orieus' tutelage. On the battlefield, neither of them had ever hesitated. They were Narnia's champions, and they held that responsibility among their most important duties. Knowing that they had failed in that duty, however unavoidably or unintentionally, was as painful for Peter as knowing that he had unintentionally abandoned his wife and child.

"Peter."

Edmund reached over and shook his brother's shoulder, again jarring Peter from his thoughts. Peter blinked before focusing his attention on Edmund with a raised eyebrow.

"Trumpkin's coming back," the younger King said, directing Peter's attention back to the How. The dwarf was indeed on his way back, along with a fellow dwarf, this one with black hair and a black beard, and with them was a tall, black centaur with dark skin, whose stride was remarkably checked to accommodate the dwarves' shorter legs. Trumpkin's other companion caused all four monarchs to tense suddenly.

Trumpkin led the other Narnians up to where the four monarchs were waiting, noticing the tension among them immediately. He looked between them, a puzzled look crossing his face before he realized that their attention was focused on his companions. "What is wrong, Majesties?" the dwarf asked, still puzzled.

Peter and Edmund both stepped forward, subtly placing their sisters behind them as they faced the dwarf, centaur, and minotaur. "Will you introduce us to your companions, good Trumpkin?" Peter replied, his voice holding a slight edge to it.

Still confused, Trumpkin nodded. "This is Glenstorm, leader of the centaurs and general of the Narnian army, Asterius, chief of the minotaurs, and Nikabrik of the Black Dwarves. Asterius, Glenstorm, Nikabrik, I would like to present you to High King Peter, Queen Lucy, King Edmund, and Queen Lucy."

The Pevensies nodded, although the Narnians made no reciprocating gesture. Glenstorm shifted his weight and stomped one foreleg. "So you say, Trumpkin. But, pray tell, what evidence do they have to support their claim? I see only four human children. Our Kings and Queens were adults when they disappeared."

"I am afraid that we have no evidence on our persons," Peter replied crisply. "We returned to Narnia in possession of only what we are wearing. We were on our way to Cair Paravel when we met with Trumpkin and he related Narnia's situation to us."

"And you simply expect us to believe you?" Nikabrik asked, derision in his tone. "We already have two humans running about, and we should now welcome four more in?"

_Two?_ Peter wondered to himself. From what he understood from Trumpkin, the only human who should be here was Prince Caspian. If that was the case, who was the second human?

"We have come to aid Narnia," Edmund said, taking his turn at trying to convince the – rightfully – suspicious Narnians of their identities.

"Can you explain how it is that you are younger than you were when you left?" Glenstorm demanded.

"On the day of our disappearance, we were in pursuit of the White Stag when we stumbled back into the passage that brought us here from Spare Oom fifteen years before," Peter replied. "The passage closed behind us, but in Spare Oom, no time had passed since we were called into Narnia, and we found ourselves returned to the same ages that we had been when we first entered Narnia. By the grace of Aslan, we have returned to Narnia in her time of need to aid her and to help restore her to her former glory."

Glenstorm looked skeptical, as did Asterius and Nikabrik. They looked at Trumpkin, who shrugged, not commenting.

"Is there anyone in the How who was at Cair Paravel on the day we were crowned?" Edmund asked. "Surely they would recognize us and verify our claim." He drew himself upright and a cool, regal look entered his eyes. Peter hid a smile. King Edmund the Just had just made an appearance. Edmund, Susan, and Lucy used to tease Peter about the aura that he could give off when he was provoked, but Peter found it very amusing that they all did exactly the same thing, and he personally was of the opinion that Edmund could give off a more intimidating aura than any of them, simply because he always remained calm, even when he was angriest.

"Or perhaps, if any of you have a sword or bow, we could give you a demonstration?" Peter suggested easily, although he too had drawn himself up and was allowing some of his own regal aura to shine through. "We were trained by the centaur general Oreius, and if the Chronicles say anything, they must mention our proficiency in standing as Narnia's champions."

"There will be no need for that," a quiet voice interjected. The tension was suddenly broken as everyone looked for the speaker. It turned out to be a Badger who stood at Glenstorm's feet, studying the four Pevensies.

Trumpkin nodded to acknowledge the Badger. "Your Majesties, I would like to introduce you to Trufflehunter."

Asterius eyed Trufflehunter with a hint of scorn. "How can you verify their claim, Badger?"

"We badgers remember well, where some of you may have forgotten. We do not change as the seasons, and it is through us that Narnia's history has been preserved," the Badger, identified as Trufflehunter replied. "Narnia's history says that the Kings and Queens were four children when they took the throne. High King Peter was described as fair of face and hair, with eyes like the skies. His siblings, according to the Chronicles, were all dark of hair and eye, but equally as fair of face."

Peter tried not to blush as Trufflehunter recited what the Chronicles said about him. He was perfectly well aware of what the scholars and historians had written about he and his siblings, but to have it waved in his face – so to speak – was more than a little embarrassing.

"Furthermore," Trufflehunter continued, not at all phased by the reaction to his statement. "I have seen the portrait that was made of their coronation, and they do resemble the Kings and Queens to a very high degree."

Peter exchanged glances with his siblings. They all remembered that portrait vividly. The Court Artist, a Faun, had sketched the scene the day of the coronation, and later had come to each of them for better sketches of their faces so that the painting could be as detailed as possible without asking them to pose for weeks while it was being painted. When he had revealed the final piece, it had been amazingly life-like, and there was no mistaking their identities. If Trufflehunter had seen that portrait, which was hung in Cair Paravel, he would easily be able to identify them.

"These _are_ the Kings and Queens, returned at last," Trufflehunter finished, bowing low to the four monarchs.

Asterius, Glenstorm, Nikabrik, and Trumpkin exchanged looks, before they also bowed to the Pevensies.

Peter stepped forward and rested a hand on each of their shoulders, indicating that they could rise. Asterius, Trumpkin, Nikabrik, and Trufflehunter did so immediately, but Glenstorm kept his eyes lowered and wouldn't meet the High King's gaze.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," the centaur whispered. "I have treated you ill."

Peter looked over at his siblings and each one shook their heads, small smiles crossing their features. Peter returned the smile, before turning his attention back to Glenstorm. "We took no offense, General," he replied kindly. "We are aware that we do not look the way that anyone would expect us to look. The circumstances of our departing Narnia, and now our return, were not within our control, unfortunately."

Glenstorm finally raised his eyes and locked gazes with Peter. Seeing no sign of rebuke in the High King's face, he straightened and backed off slightly so that he was not looming over his King. "It is well that you have returned, my liege," he said quietly. "Narnia has prayed for this day."

Peter looked at the group. "You are not what we expected either," he said, his eyes fixed on Asterius.

"A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes," Trufflehunter pointed out quietly.

Peter laughed. "Very true, good Badger. Very true." He gestured towards the How. "Shall we?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Glenstorm replied, turning and signaling to the sentries. The entire group headed towards the How, hurrying across the open field.

Trumpkin, Nikabrik, and Trufflehunter dropped back behind the Pevensies to talk, wanting to find out what had happened since they last saw Trumpkin, and to find out how he discovered Narnia's monarchs. Trumpkin related the story briefly and gruffly.

"So, what are they like?" Trufflehunter asked softly, unaware that the four monarchs could hear them clearly, since they were walking behind the Pevensies.

"Malcontents, complainers, stubborn as mules in the morning," the Red Dwarf replied.

"Oh, so you like them then," Nikabrik jibed.

Trumpkin was silent for a moment. "Well enough."

Lucy glanced over at Peter and both of them were forced to conceal their laughter as they crossed the field and approached the ruins. A stone pathway led down into the How, and as they approached, a group of centaurs emerged from inside the How, paced forward, and lined up on either side of the path. At a signal from Glenstorm, who joined the end of the line, all of the centaurs pulled out their swords and saluted their monarchs, before raising the blades to form an archway for the Pevensies to walk under.

Peter glanced at his siblings and they lined up. Lucy stood at one end, with Peter next to her. Next to Peter was Susan, and then Edmund. They exchanged glances, before stepping forward, matching their strides and moving down the walkway beneath the arch of swords.

They had reached their destination. Now the real work would begin.

* * *

The How was not what any of them had expected. In the first chamber, a forge had been set up and many of the Dwarves were hard at work crafting swords and armor for the various Narnians that had been assembled. In other rooms that branched off from the main chamber, other Narnians were at work fletching arrows, or stocking food and medical supplies.

"How long did it take to build all of this?" Lucy asked in amazement.

"This cave system was already here when the How was constructed, my Queen," Trufflehunter replied. "Since we have arrived, we have focused our efforts on provisioning the army and setting up reliable ways to send messages to the Narnians who have not assembled here."

"Tell me, Trufflehunter," Peter said, looking down at the Badger as they paused at a juncture that led back to the main chamber. "The Telmarine soldier that was outside your home…was that Prince Caspian?"

Trufflehunter nodded. "It was," he replied.

"How did you know he could be trusted?" Peter asked.

"We didn't at first," Trufflehunter said. "He had this with him, however, and that made him a curiosity at least, so we kept him alive until we could question him." Reaching into the bag he was carrying slung over his shoulder, the Badger reverently produced an ivory horn carved in the shape of Aslan's head. The braces where a ribbon could be tied to carry it with were empty, but even without the scarlet ribbon, all four Pevensies recognized it.

"My horn!" Susan exclaimed, reaching for it. "But how did the Telmarines get it?"

Trufflehunter shook his head as he returned Susan's horn to her. "That we do not know for sure. Prince Caspian claims that his Professor gave it to him just before he fled Cair Paravel, saying only that it took him a very long time to track it down. Whether or not it was at Cair Paravel when the Professor found it, we are uncertain."

Trufflehunter sighed softly. "Telmarine he may be, but he is correct about one thing. The Telmarine throne is lawfully his, and he has been betrayed by his uncle, Miraz. He pledged that if we helped him claim his throne, he would restore Narnia to us. Glenstorm believes him, as do I, as well as many of the others."

Peter's lips tightened. "Where is Prince Caspian?"

"Out with some of the others, gathering weapons for the army. With the supplies we have here, we can only outfit about half of the army. Prince Caspian came up with a plan to help us acquire more from the Telmarines, and he led the group that went out to get them. They should be back by sunset tonight, since they left before dawn," Nikabrik replied.

"You mentioned two humans were here. I am assuming that Prince Caspian is one of them, but who is the other?" Edmund asked before Peter could. Peter smiled. He knew his brother wouldn't have missed that bit of information.

"A most unexpected ally," Trufflehunter replied, leading the four monarchs down a passage they had not yet been shown. He stopped about halfway down the tunnel and scratched at the stone outside a doorway carved into the rock.

"Yes?" called a feminine voice.

_That voice…_Peter thought. It sounded familiar…but not. His heart began to race and he wondered…

He was disappointed a moment later, as the owner of the voice came out into the tunnel and looked at her guests. She was indeed human, with black hair pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck and blue-grey eyes. She had clear skin and high cheekbones, and if Peter was any judge of ages, she was in her mid-twenties.

"Lady Aislynn, I would like to introduce you to some unexpected arrivals," Trufflehunter said. "These are Narnia's Kings and Queens. High King Peter and his brother King Edmund, and their sisters Queens Susan and Lucy," he introduced them gesturing to each of them in turn, earning a startled look from the woman. "Your Majesties, this is Lady Aislynn, a member of His Majesty King Cor's court at Anvard."

Lady Aislynn swiftly curtsied to the four rulers, who indicated that she could rise almost immediately, smiles on their faces. Peter studied her for a moment, thinking that she looked familiar, but unable to place her.

"It is a great honor to meet Your Majesties," Lady Aislynn said quietly. "This is wonderful news indeed."

"May I ask, Lady Aislynn, what you are doing here? After what we have been told, finding someone from Anvard was the last thing we expected," Susan asked politely.

Aislynn offered a sort-of half-smile. "King Cor sent me to serve as a messenger for him to the Narnians."

"Is he helping the Narnians?" Peter asked.

"In a way," Lady Aislynn replied. "He's been sending supplies covertly through the gryphons on a regular basis ever since the Telmarines took Cair Paravel. Unfortunately, the Telmarine army is much stronger than Archenland's army. His Majesty wanted to work out a joint attack with the Narnians, but he also felt it was important to wait until there was some type of turmoil among the Telmarines, otherwise they would simply drive both groups out. Four days ago, a gryphon came by to pick up the latest shipment of supplies and informed His Majesty that somehow Prince Caspian had been chased from Cair Paravel by a group of Telmarine soldiers and was now seeking refuge with the Narnians. He asked me to come and find out the true situation and send back word if it was time to begin making preparations to drive the Telmarines out of Narnia."

Edmund frowned slightly. "That is good to know, but if I may ask, why did he send you?"

"The Telmarines are deeply suspicious of any man attempting to cross the border," Lady Aislynn replied. "They know Archenland is a long-time ally of Narnia, but they also believe that a man could be a soldier attempting to sneak in, since women do not serve in the Archenland army. King Cor sent me here under the pretense that I was to serve as the new ambassador to Narnia, since women do serve as our ambassadors. Via the gryphons, we arranged a meeting place, and I came openly across the border to be escorted to Cair Paravel by the Telmarines. When we camped that night, I slipped a sedative into the Telmarine escort's food and then took my things and left to meet the Narnian escort."

"An ambitious plan, my lady," Peter responded. "But why were you chosen?"

Aislynn frowned. "King Cor requested I come, as did my mother. My mother has many friends among the Narnians. She grew up on a farm close to the border and moved to the Court when she married my father, but she became close friends with the Narnians. She raised me the way she thought my father would have wanted. I can wield a sword, bow, or dagger, master any horse I choose, and hunt regularly with King Cor and Prince Corin. My mother taught me all manner of fine work, singing, dance, and hostess skills, as well as seeing that I knew the arts of diplomacy and negotiation."

"May I ask who your father is?" Peter queried. "We had a great many friends in King Lune's court, and it's possible we know him."

"I don't know who my father is, Your Majesty. He died before I was born, and my mother never speaks of him. The few times I asked when I was a child, she never answered my questions, and I could see that talking about him caused her pain, so I stopped asking," Aislynn replied.

"Forgive me for prying into your personal life, Lady Aislynn," Peter apologized. "It was unnecessary curiosity."

"I took no offense, Your Majesty. It is a great relief that you are here to help the Narnians. I will send a message to King Cor letting him know of your return, and perhaps he will agree that now is the right time to strike back for Narnia's freedom."

"If you don't mind, Lady Aislynn, I would like to include a message of my own to Cor," Peter replied. "I knew him when he first learned he was the Crown Prince of Archenland, and he was a good friend in the last two years before we left Narnia."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Aislynn replied. "I will send my message via one of the gryphons when yours is ready."

Peter nodded in agreement and turned back to his siblings and Trufflehunter. He looked down at the Badger. "Trufflehunter, is there a place where we might be able to wash up, and possibly change into something a little more appropriate?"

"There's a fresh-water spring running through one of the storerooms that we use as our water source," Trufflehunter replied. "It would be rather cold, but it's clean."

The idea of a cold bath didn't appeal to any of them, but if it meant getting clean and possibly repairing some of the damage done to their school uniforms over the last three days, it was worth it.

"Excuse me, King Peter," Lady Aislynn spoke up. "If you're in need of fresh clothing, I may have something that would suit."

All four monarchs turned and looked at the young woman. With a smile, she beckoned them into the room she had been working in and led them to a small, sturdy traveling trunk in the corner next to her pallet. She opened it and then turned to study the four of them for a moment before nodding and rummaging around inside.

A moment later she emerged with an armful of clothing, neatly folded, which she laid on her pallet. The first article she picked up and shook out, she handed to Susan, who was just about the same size as she was. or close enough that it made little difference. It was a dress made of a sturdy linen dyed a soft purple, with long sleeves and a low, scooped neck.

"Here, this looks like it should fit you," Aislynn said with a smile.

"Thank you," Susan replied, shocked at the older girl's generosity. Aislynn simply nodded and reached for the second article, pulling out a second dress made of a red wool plush with a silver bodice of linen that was lightly beaded. She held it out to Lucy, but frowned as she took in the difference in their heights.

"If you try this on, Your Majesty, I can pin it up and adjust the hem so it fits you better. I'm afraid it will be too long."

Lucy looked equally surprised. "I don't want you to sacrifice one of your own dresses," she protested.

Aislynn smiled. "I don't mind, Your Majesty. I brought plenty of clothing with me in order to maintain the fiction that I was headed for Cair Paravel. Please, take it and try it on and I'll alter it for you."

"Thank you," Lucy replied after a moment of looking into the older girl's eyes and trying to decide if she was serious or not. She reached out and took the dress and held it while Aislynn turned back to the rest of the clothing. She studied what she had removed from the chest for a moment before pulling out a pale blue linen shirt with long sleeves and a dark brown wool tunic with matching leather belt and buttons down the front. She handed these to Peter, along with a set of linen pants.

"When we heard that Prince Caspian had fled to join the Narnians, King Cor insisted that I take some clothing for him as a gift, since he probably wouldn't be able to get more clothing from the Narnians," she explained as Peter raised his eyebrows at the sight of her carrying men's clothing in her trunk. "You and he are about the same size, so these should fit you well. As for King Edmund," she picked up the last set of clothes, a darker blue linen shirt and leather belt, minus the tunic, and brown pants to match Peter's. "You're not that much smaller than your brother, so these should fit you closely enough."

"Thank you for your generosity, Lady Aislynn. We greatly appreciate it," Edmund told her, taking the clothing from her hands.

"I'm afraid the one thing I cannot provide are proper shoes for you, King Peter, King Edmund," Lady Aislynn admitted. "But I do have shoes that should do well for your sisters."

"We can use what we have at the moment, Lady Aislynn," Peter assured her. "Perhaps we can find one of the leather workers who can make us boots if it turns out that they are necessary."

"It is possible," Aislynn told them. "The Narnians are quite skilled and I am sure they would do anything for their Kings and Queens." She looked at them. "Queen Lucy, if you would like to try your dress on now, I can work on altering it while you wash up. It shouldn't take long to make the adjustments, and I will bring it to you when I am finished."

"Go on, Lu," Susan encouraged her. "Trufflehunter can show the boys where they can wash up. I'll wait for you and we'll go together when you're ready."

"All right," Lucy agreed. Peter and Edmund nodded in agreement as well, and stepped out to follow Trufflehunter, while Susan stepped out into the hallway to give her sister some privacy to try on the dress.

* * *

"There you are, Lu," Susan said as she secured Lucy's hair with a final twist. "Now you look like a proper Queen."

Lucy studied what she could see of herself since she was lacking a mirror. Aislynn had been as good as her word about being able to quickly alter the red dress to fit the younger Queen. It had fit well enough in the bodice, but the skirt had been much too long, so Aislynn had quickly adjusted the hem and then made a tiny adjustment to the bodice to make it fit a little bit better. She wore a pair of simple leather slippers, and Susan had been kind enough to help her braid her hair back to keep it out of her face.

As for Susan, she looked every inch Queen Susan the Gentle in her borrowed dress. The only things missing from her appearance were her golden crown and her bow, quiver, and horn, although she rarely wore those out in public. But seeing her sister, looking as Lucy remembered her, filled Lucy with such joy that she felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

Susan spotted her sister's tears and immediately gathered her into her own arms. "Oh, Lu…what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Susan," Lucy reassured the older girl, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. "I'm just so happy to be back in Narnia, and seeing you dressed like that…it's all good memories, even though things have changed so much."

Susan hugged her tightly. "Oh, Lucy. It has been hard, hasn't it?" Without waiting for a reply to her question, she continued. "You always knew we'd be coming back here, didn't you?"

Lucy nodded against her sister. "I hoped so, mostly for Peter's sake, but also for all of us. I didn't want to believe that Aslan would have us rule for so long and then return us to England without intending to bring us back. We didn't leave anyone appointed to rule for us. I mean, Krisalyn was here, and the baby, but we never got a chance to ask Aslan if there was always supposed to be four on the thrones at Cair Paravel."

Susan released her sister. "Lucy, you know we couldn't control what happened, right?" When Lucy nodded, Susan sighed. "I was just starting to get used to the idea of being back in England and living there. I know it had only been four months, but not knowing when or if we would ever come back…it was easier to pretend that we wouldn't."

"But you're glad to be here, aren't you?" Lucy asked, touching her sister's hand.

"While it lasts," Susan whispered. There was an expression on her face that was both wistful and sorrowful. Lucy watched her quietly for a moment before Susan shook off her melancholy and smiled down at her. "Come on, Lu. Let's take a look around. I think there's more to this place than we've seen."

Lucy smiled broadly and nodded, and together the two girls hurried out of the little room where they had been getting cleaned up. They chose a random path and began walking, the torches that lit the way casting intricate shadows on the walls and ceilings of the caves.

An odd reflection drew Lucy's attention and she paused before stepping closer to the wall. Susan frowned and followed her gaze. A moment later, both Queens' gazes met and held. "Peter will want to know about this," Lucy whispered.

"Then let's go and find them," Susan replied, taking her sister's hand and leading the way back in the direction of the forges, the sound of hammer on steel guiding them.

* * *

Peter and Edmund were looking around the forges when Lady Aislynn joined them. She dipped a swift curtsy to the two Kings, before facing them. "I have finished my letter, Your Majesties. As soon as your letter is ready, I will send them."

"Thank you, Lady Aislynn," Peter said, a warm smile on his face. "And thank you for everything you've done for the Narnians already. We appreciate it."

"It is my pleasure, King Peter," she replied softly. "Archenland has always been Narnia's ally."

"What do you know about King Cor's plans to send in his troops?" Peter asked.

"Very little, I am afraid," Aislynn replied. "I was only asked to come here and serve as messenger and ambassador from Archenland. His Majesty promised that he would send further instructions once I had made contact with the Narnians and sent back a report on the state of events."

"Peter!" Susan called, drawing their attention. All three turned and saw Susan and Lucy standing at the entrance to one of the side passages. Peter frowned and stepped over to his sisters, Edmund and Aislynn following him.

"What is it, Su?" Peter asked.

"You may want to see this," Susan replied and led the way down the passage, Lucy walking beside her. Edmund and Peter exchanged looks and shrugs before following their sisters, Aislynn trailing behind them.

Susan picked up a torch and held it up to one of the walls. At first Peter wasn't sure what he was looking at, but a moment later, he realized he was staring at a picture that had been carved and painted into the rock wall. The image was of the four of them standing in front of the four thrones at Cair Paravel, on the day of their coronation. It wasn't incredibly detailed, but there was enough detail to make it very obvious to all four monarch exactly what they were looking at.

Next to the coronation picture was a picture of two young girls riding on the back of a lion. _Aslan…and Susan and Lucy, on their way to the Witch's castle to free those she had turned_, Peter thought in awe and a bit of confusion.

"It's us," Susan said quietly, looking at all of the scenes that had been carved into the rock.

"What is this place?" Lucy wondered aloud. "Mr. Tumnus must have picked some reason to construct the How here, and it can't all have to do with the caves."

Lady Aislynn raised her eyebrows at the four monarchs. "You mean you don't know?"

The four Pevensies shook their heads, exchanging looks. With a mysterious smile on her face, the older girl took one of the torches off the wall and led the way down the passage.

Peter started to lead the way before another carving caught his eye and he paused. Aslan was facing outward, and just below him, on a set of steps leading up to where he stood, was a depiction of Peter himself and a woman with long dark hair, gazing up at him. A crown sparkled on her dark hair, and her hands were joined with Peter's.

Peter reached out and carefully touched the picture. "This was my wedding…" he whispered, recognizing the image immediately and feeling an old, familiar jolt of heart-ache. His siblings gathered behind him, waiting for him to continue and silently lending him support as Aislynn paused and turned back.

"Your Majesties?" she asked, uncertain why they had hesitated in front of one of the pictures.

Peter shook himself and blinked back the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes. He was not going to let his own pain interfere with Narnia's well-being, no matter how hard it was. He walked over to Aislynn, his siblings trailing behind him.

She led them down a long, dark passage way, her torch the only light as she moved confidently down the tunnel. After some distance, the air seemed less close, as if they had stepped into a large room or cavern. They still couldn't see anything, the torch not quite bright enough to pierce the gloom.

"What is this place?" Peter asked, his voice echoing in the room and seeming to disturb something that was intrinsically solemn and powerful in the silence. He could sense Aislynn moving off to the right and a moment later she touched the torch to something and light began to blaze up around the room as the flame spread through an oil-filled basin that ringed the room.

All along the walls were carved images of different Narnians. Fauns, centaurs, dwarves, Talking Animals, gryphons, dryads…they were gathered together on either side of the room. At the far end of the room one carving in particular caught and held the eye. A great lion, with kind, wise eyes, sitting and watching them, his tail curled around his feet.

"Aslan," Edmund whispered, just before Lucy seized Peter's arm as the light revealed what was in the center of the room.

Carved pillars, like massive monoliths, rose in a circle around the center of the room. Framing the carving of Aslan was a great trilithion of two upright pillars with one laid across the top. In the center of the circle, a massive stone slab, with four small slabs holding it up, and steps leading up to the top on each side. A huge crack ran straight through the middle of the largest slab, and it had bowed inward as a result, unable to hold it's own weight.

"The Stone Table," Lucy breathed, squeezing Peter's hand before she let go and stepped up to the Table, resting her hand on the surface, right next to the crack. She stood there for a moment, before turning back to her siblings. Edmund's face was tense with memories he tried to repress, and Susan was trying to hold back tears. Peter's eyes were fixed on the carving of Aslan at the far end of the room. Lucy looked at each of them. "He must know what he's doing."

Peter slowly tore his gaze from that of the carving and met the gaze of his little sister before allowing his eyes to meet Edmund, Susan, and Aislynn in turn. "I'm sure he does, Lu, but until he arrives, it's up to us to begin setting things right."


	13. Chapter 12: Theories and Trials

_**Chapter Twelve: Theories and Trials**_

_A few hours later…_

Aislynn walked through the forge room quickly, a scroll of parchment rolled up in her hand as she looked for one of the gryphons. They could fly high and fast and get past the border without being seen, and that was what she needed right now. The letter from King Peter was wrapped inside the scroll that held her own message to King Cor and her mother, and the sooner she could get it sent off, the more time King Cor would have to make his own plans and rally the Archenland army to Narnia's aid.

Spotting one of the gryphons speaking to a faun, she waited until he had finished his conversation before drawing his attention. "May I ask a favor of you, good gryphon?"

"Of course, Lady Aislynn," the gryphon replied focusing all of his attention on her.

"Would you be willing to carry this message across the border to Anvard and entrust it only into the hands of King Cor?"

The gryphon nodded his elegant, avian head and extended one clawed forefoot for the scroll she carried. She set it delicately into the foot, careful to avoid the wickedly sharp talons, before bowing to him. "Thank you for this, Lord of the Sky."

"It is my pleasure to help, Daughter of Eve," the gryphon replied, heading through the forge towards the main entrance of the How. Aislynn followed him as he stepped out into the sunlight. As he spread his wings in preparation to take flight, she addressed him once more. "King Cor is awaiting this message. You shouldn't have any difficulty getting it to him, but if anyone does give you trouble, tell them you have been sent with an urgent message from Lady Aislynn."

"I shall, Daughter of Eve. Shall I wait for a return missive?"

Aislynn paused to consider her answer. "If His Majesty asks you to wait, then yes, please do so. If he doesn't, tell him I will send another messenger in a few days to see if there are further instructions."

The gryphon nodded. "You may wish to stand back, Daughter of Eve." As she backed away, he gathered his legs under him and spread his wings to their full length, before leaping up off the ground, his wings beating hard to drive him up into the air. Small leaves and bits of grass and twigs were kicked up by the wind generated by the force of his wing beats as he arrowed up into the sky. Within moments he was high out of sight.

"Was that the message to King Cor?"

Aislynn turned around to see Lucy standing at the entrance to the How, peering up into the sky after the gryphon. After a moment, the young Queen looked down and met Aislynn's eyes.

"It was," Aislynn replied. "With luck and Aslan's blessings, it should reach him today and he'll begin preparing to send his troops to rally here with us."

Lucy only nodded silently, still studying the older girl. Like Peter, she felt there was something familiar about Aislynn, but she couldn't place it. Lucy was certain she'd never met Aislynn before. If the older girl was in her early twenties, as she appeared to be, she would have been born after the four of them had left Narnia, so they never would have met. Nevertheless, there was something tantalizingly familiar about her.

"Is something wrong, Your Majesty?" Aislynn asked, jarring Lucy from her thoughts.

Lucy blinked before offering a smile. "No, Lady Aislynn. Nothing is wrong…you just seem very familiar to me, yet I know we never met before. Would you tell me some about your family?"

"What is it that you would like to know?" Aislynn asked, sitting on the low wall that edged the path into the hall and inviting Lucy to join her with a nod of her head. Technically, what she had just done was a breach in royal protocol, since a lord or lady was never to sit in the presence of royalty without first receiving an invitation from said royalty. But Aislynn suspected that Queen Lucy would not take offense, and that her question was intended as a roundabout invitation.

So it proved as Lucy came and sat beside Aislynn, looking up at the older girl. Lucy paused for a moment, thinking about what she wanted to know. "Do you have any siblings?" she finally asked.

Aislynn shook her head. "No. My father died before I was born, and my mother never remarried. She raised me alone in the Court, with some help from her own sister and brother, but it was just the two of us."

Lucy continued to study Aislynn while the lady answered her question. Now that they were out of the darkness of the caverns, it was easier to make out Aislynn's features. She had black hair that had been pulled back and secured in a knot at the base of her neck, a stylish yet practical look considering their surroundings. Her skin was fair and clear and she had high cheekbones, an aristocratic nose, and wide, doe-like eyes. In the darkness of the caves, her eyes had appeared to be a blue-gray, but now in the sunlight, Lucy could see that they were actually a soft blue-violet, like that of a fresh blossom of the lupine flower, with more blue in them than violet. The effect, however, gave her an innocent, charming appearance.

There was just something so familiar about Lady Aislynn…a sneaking suspicion was starting to form in Lucy's heart, and she wondered if it was at all possible…she hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Lady Aislynn…your mother's name wouldn't happen to be Krisalyn by any chance, would it?"

She caught the older girl by surprise with her question. Aislynn moved to speak, before hesitating a moment and studying Lucy, as if trying to figure out why she was asking. After a moment, Aislynn shook her head. "No, Queen Lucy. My mother's name is Serena. My aunt's name is Krisalyn, however."

Somehow, Lucy didn't believe her. The tone of her voice was quite flat when she answered Lucy's question, and there was a look in her eye…it was almost defensive, or secretive. But something told Lucy that now was not the time to call Aislynn on her lie. Meanwhile, the youngest Pevensie's heart was racing, wondering if she could possibly be right…

_Could it be?_ she wondered to herself. _Could this be Peter's daughter? He didn't know if he was having a son or a daughter when we left…and she's the right age, considering how long we've been gone. She even resembles Peter and Krisalyn, but she doesn't look exactly like either of them. She mentioned that her mother had friends in Narnia…Krisalyn could still be trying to aid Narnia, but why she didn't join the Narnians here when Cair Paravel fell…_

But then again…_Surely Aislynn would know if she was the heir to the Narnian throne_, Lucy thought, watching Aislynn closely. _Aislynn did say that her father was dead before she was born. I can't believe that Krisalyn would lie about Peter being dead to their child…not after the pain they went through the first time she was pregnant. What reason would Krisalyn have for not telling Aislynn the truth? There wouldn't be any danger to them if they were living in Anvard under Cor's protection._

"Was there anything else you wanted to ask me, Your Majesty? I promised the archers I would help fletch arrows this afternoon," Aislynn asked politely when Lucy didn't speak, interrupting the Queen's racing thoughts.

"One more question, if you don't mind, Lady Aislynn," Lucy replied. _The Telmarines didn't invade until Peter's child would have been five years old. Surely, if Aislynn is Peter's daughter, she would remember living in Cair Paravel_. "Have you lived in Anvard your whole life?"

Again, Aislynn hesitated with her answer, but this time it wasn't as though she was trying to hide anything, but more as if she was trying to decide how to answer. After a moment, she spoke. "I've lived in Anvard for as long as I can remember, Your Majesty…although…" she trailed off, deep in thought.

"Yes? Please, continue, Lady Aislynn."

Aislynn bit her lip and appeared to be concentrating, as if on a memory that she could only vaguely recall. "When I was a young child, I used to have dreams of standing on a balcony on a high tower, overlooking the sea. I always thought that it was a real place, but when I mentioned it to my mother, she told me it was just a dream. Anvard doesn't overlook the sea, and she told me I had never lived anywhere else, and at the time, I had never left the city." Aislynn paused again, before shrugging. "It must simply have been a dream, but it was so real…" she trailed off again, before shaking her head and rising to her feet, curtsying quickly. "Please excuse me, Your Majesty. I need to go and help the archers as I agreed. We'll need all the weapons we can possibly get."

Lucy nodded to dismiss her, but remained seated on the wall for a long time, watching the sun traverse the sky as it crept closer and closer to the horizon. _There's no doubt in my mind_, she thought. _Aislynn __**is**__ Peter's daughter, she just may not realize it. For some reason, Krisalyn must not have told her the whole truth._

"Oh, Aslan," Lucy whispered to the gentle breeze. "What should I do? Peter deserves to know the truth, but how will he react?" _We need Peter at his best, and if he knows Aislynn is his daughter…he won't react well. Plus, will she even believe it? If she's been told her whole life that her father is dead, and Peter comes to her and claims that he's her father…he's only sixteen...she's older than he is by nine years! Even if she believes his claim about reverting back to being sixteen when we returned to England, how is she going to feel about the fact that he unintentionally abandoned her and her mother?_

_She's learned to fight, she said. We'll need all the fighters we can get, but if Peter knows the truth…he'll try to forbid her to fight. He's overprotective with the three of us, and we all trained under Oreius. He knows what we're capable of, but he has no such confidence in what she has learned. He'll try to protect her, and she might resent that, or he might take risks that he wouldn't if he didn't know the truth and get hurt or killed._

Lucy sat there for some time, weighing her choices in her mind and trying to decide what the best decision would be. It wasn't fair to keep it from Peter, but Lucy had no real proof…and, Lucy was honest with herself, she could be looking for evidence that wasn't there. Krisalyn wasn't a common name in Archenland, but it wasn't unheard of either. It was very possible that this was all just a coincidence and Lucy was seeing what she wanted to see.

_If anyone would know the truth, it would be Cor,_ Lucy thought. _Maybe when this is all over, I can ask him. He never could keep a secret from me, and I'm sure he would know the truth…Krisalyn is his cousin after all, and if she did flee to Archenland when Cair Paravel fell, she would have had her child with her…Cor wouldn't turn them away._

"I won't say anything for now," Lucy decided. "I'll just keep my ears and eyes open, and maybe I'll see or hear something that will let me know either way."

"Talking to yourself, Lu? That's usually the first sign of insanity."

Lucy jumped in surprise as Edmund's voice cut through the air, interrupting her thoughts. "Ed! You startled me!"

Edmund grinned unrepentantly and sat down on the wall beside her. "Oh, do forgive my impertinence, Queen Lucy. How may I beg your pardon?" he teased her, dodging easily out of the way when she moved to smack him. After a moment, he straightened up and looked at her more seriously. "What's wrong, Lu? I don't often find you talking to yourself, you know."

Lucy hesitated, wondering if she should share her suspicions with Edmund. She didn't want to carry them alone, but she knew that if she told anyone else, they would feel obligated to share the information with Peter as a matter of loyalty and disclosure about who would be fighting alongside them. Edmund had been carrying a great deal of the burden of trying to get Peter past his guilt and anger about leaving Narnia and Krisalyn behind, and Edmund never could lie or keep secrets from his brother. Their bond was too close. The only times Peter never pressed about a secret that Edmund was keeping were when Christmas or Peter's birthday were coming up.

Lucy's thoughts raced before she finally made up her mind and just shrugged. "It's nothing Ed, I was just thinking out loud."

Edmund eyed her skeptically and Lucy resisted the urge to squirm. This was one time when she wished that the four of them were not as close as they were. It was too easy for them to read each other and guess what the others were thinking. It had been an asset when they had ruled Narnia, but now, when Lucy was deliberately trying to keep crucial information from Peter, it was more of a hindrance.

Finally, Edmund nodded. "All right, Lu. But if you need to talk about anything, you know you can come and talk to me, right?" He stared at his little sister and smiled at her.

Lucy returned his smile, glad that he was dropping the subject. She hated lying or withholding information from her siblings. It didn't feel right to her, but in this one particular case, when it would be for all their benefits that she do so…this time, it would be worth risking Peter's anger, if it meant keeping him safe.

"I know, Ed. Thanks," Lucy told him, embracing him gently and feeling him return the gesture.

They broke apart when they heard the sound of hooves on stone, both of them turning to see Glenstorm, Asterius, Trufflehunter, Nikabrik, and Trumpkin coming up from inside the How, with Peter, Susan, and Aislynn trailing behind them. Lucy and Edmund both rose to their feet and looked questioningly at their older siblings.

"One of the sentries reported seeing Prince Caspian's party approaching," Peter said, answering their unspoken question.

Edmund and Lucy exchanged looks, before moving to stand next to their siblings. This was an old dance, and one that they were intimately familiar with. The four of them allowed the Narnians and Aislynn to step past them, before they arranged themselves at the top of the ramp. Edmund stood on Peter's right, and Susan on his left, with Lucy on her left. They drew themselves upright and stood there, projecting their full, regal auras, just as they always had when welcoming important guests and visitors to Cair Paravel.

Lucy felt an ache at that thought, remembering that their beautiful home was in the possession of the Telmarines. Was Cair Paravel even the same as it had been during their reign? Unless the Telmarines were remarkably well-trained, she had no doubt that there had been some looting and destruction of the castle before the Telmarine leaders had claimed the grand palace for their own. She thought longingly of the great throne room, with its glass ceiling, wide marble columns, painted walls depicting Narnia's history, and the four marble thrones at the far end of the room.

_At least we look like Kings and Queens now_, Lucy thought to herself. _It should be much easier to convince this group of Narnians of our identities, even if we don't have our crowns or our gifts from Father Christmas. Well, that isn't even entirely true anymore_, Lucy corrected herself. _Susan has her horn back, after all._ But her cordial and dagger were so much a part of her identity as Queen Lucy, just as Rhindon was part of Peter's, and Susan's bow and Edmund's short swords were part of theirs. Everyone in Narnia knew about those gifts, and they had been as much symbols of the four monarchs as they had useful items.

It was only a few minutes before they caught sight of Caspian's party moving across the field. They were moving quickly, despite the burdens that they were all carrying, as if they were eager to get to the safety of the How. The group consisted of several centaurs, half a dozen minotaurs, a group of fauns, and several dwarves. Leading the group was a young man with dark hair and dark eyes. Lucy guessed that this must be Caspian, and if she was any judge of ages, he was somewhere between eighteen and twenty.

As the group drew closer, the leaders of the Narnian party stepped forward to assist their comrades, while Glenstorm bent down and spoke quietly with Caspian. The young man listened for a moment, before shooting a startled glance in the direction of the four Pevensies. He whispered to Glenstorm for a moment before gesturing for Asterius to take the bundle he was holding. The minotaur leader did so easily, which impressed Lucy. During their reign, the minotaurs had been some of the most stubborn, willful creatures in Narnia. Yet Caspian had made a simple request and Asterius had responded.

Caspian, freed of his burden, stepped up to the Pevensies, studying them closely as he approached. Lucy could see a trace of skepticism in his eyes, although with the confirmation of the Narnian leaders, there was no sign of outright disbelief of their identity. He paused for the briefest instant, before bowing to them.

"Rise." Peter's voice was cool and neutral in tone. Lucy knew that tone of voice. Her brother was just as skeptical of Caspian as Caspian was of them. He fully intended to test this prince, to determine his worthiness to claim Narnia's throne, before committing their support.

Peter would not be cruel, but he would be merciless if he felt the situation warranted it, or if he sensed that Caspian was lying to them in anyway. Narnia's well-being had always fallen on Peter's shoulders and Peter took the responsibility very seriously. Unless he was told otherwise by Aslan, Peter was still High King of Narnia, and no matter what Caspian's birthright was, Peter still had the right to deny Caspian's claim to the throne.

Furthermore, Lucy knew, Peter would not have forgotten that Caspian's claim came as a result of the Telmarine invasion, and technically, the only thing that Caspian's birthright granted him was the right to rule the Telmarines, _not_ the Narnians. Peter wouldn't hold that fact against Caspian if he judged Caspian worthy, but it would be a serious obstacle for Caspian to overcome.

Lucy watched her brother out of the corner of her eye, but focused most of her attention on Caspian and the Narnians that were now gathered behind him. She saw Peter's swift glance, raised eyebrow, and small nod towards Edmund, and saw Edmund nod in response. Without saying a word, Peter had just asked Edmund – who was known as the Just for a reason – to keep careful track of every word that Caspian said. Edmund's opinions and judgments of Caspian during what was about to occur would go a long way towards influencing Peter's decision, and although Peter probably wouldn't miss anything that Caspian said or did, Edmund often had a different way of looking at things than Peter did. It was what made them such an effective team.

Peter also turned and looked at Susan, who also nodded. Susan's responsibility would be to determine if Caspian had the right emotional and mental capacity to effectively lead the Narnians, since her title of Gentle demonstrated that she was very good at reading the emotions of others and altering her own attitude accordingly.

When Peter leaned back, ever so slightly, to meet Lucy's gaze, she returned his nod before he could even acknowledge her. She knew her duty in this situation. She had always been the one who had been the most closely connected to Aslan, and it would be up to her to decide if Caspian had enough faith and trust in Aslan to allow Aslan to guide him and his decisions. Of the three kingdoms of Narnia, Archenland, and Calormen, Narnia was Aslan's most beloved, and if Caspian couldn't trust Aslan or the great Lion's decisions, he would not be a suitable ruler for Narnia.

Peter returned his attention to Caspian. The exchange with his siblings had happened so quickly that Lucy didn't think the prince had any idea what Peter had just charged his siblings with. He eyed the prince coolly for a moment before speaking again. "You are Caspian the Tenth, Prince of the Telmarines?" he asked.

Caspian nodded, standing erect and proud without appearing defiant or defensive. Lucy resisted the urge to smile. Peter's tone of voice could put almost anyone on the defensive, and the fact that it didn't appear to be intimidating Caspian was a point in the Telmarine's favor. "I am."

Peter allowed the silence to hang for several moments as he studied Caspian. This was a favorite tactic of his. Anyone with something to hide would begin to fidget, wondering what the High King was going to do next. But Caspian simply stood there, easily meeting Peter's eyes and holding his gaze, not showing any sign of nerves.

"By what right do you lay claim to the throne of Narnia at Cair Paravel?" Peter asked suddenly, attempting to catch Caspian off-guard with the sharpness of his tone and the suddenness of his words.

Caspian didn't even flinch, and Lucy's opinion of him went up another notch. "By the fact that I am the son of King Caspian the Ninth, ruler of Narnia."

Lucy winced inwardly, though she didn't show it outwardly. _That was not a smart answer when addressing the Kings and Queens of Narnia_, she thought, knowing how her brother would respond to that statement.

Peter's blue eyes darkened dramatically, a sure sign that he was annoyed with Caspian's response. "It is by the grace of Aslan and the election of the people of Narnia that _I _am High King of Narnia and that my royal siblings rule beside me as King and Queens. By the laws set forth by Aslan at the Dawn of Time, the Telmarines have no legitimate claim to Narnia's throne." Peter's tone remained even and mild, but his annoyance was clearly evident in his posture and the dark look in his eyes.

Caspian bristled at the tone and Lucy's opinion of him changed, dropping several notches. If he was this easily provoked by a challenge, he would not be a good King for Narnia. Furthermore, he had not yet mentioned anything about Aslan, and without Aslan, Narnia would not even exist.

Peter didn't give Caspian a chance to respond, but continued, fixing the prince with an even gaze as the Narnians shifted uneasily. Caspian was the one whom they had placed their trust in, but – as Peter had just pointed out – the Pevensies were the true rulers of Narnia, and as such, the Narnians' allegiance would be to them first, no matter what Caspian said or did to win their loyalty. There was already one war brewing between the Narnians and the Telmarines…the last thing that they needed was a civil war among the Narnians – between those that were loyal to Caspian, and those who were loyal to Aslan and Lucy and her siblings. "I say again, by what right do you claim the throne of Narnia at Cair Paravel?"

_Interesting tactic, Peter_…Lucy thought, watching Caspian as he paused and took a deep breath before responding. She hadn't expected that Peter would give Caspian a chance to revise his answer, but it was a double-edged sword. Caspian's answer here could either earn Peter's favor, or sink him so far into a hole that no matter what else Peter asked him, the prince would never recover from this initial question.

Caspian closed his eyes, obviously reigning in his temper, and Lucy gave him points for his control and poise. He was obviously doing his best not to let Peter – at least two years younger – rattle him. Unfortunately, Peter was projecting his full, Magnificent aura at the moment, and that could be unnerving for anyone, because it forced someone to look past Peter's age and physical appearance and _see_ the authority and power that had been granted to him by Aslan. Lucy and her siblings often teased Peter about his aura, claiming that it was a greater weapon than Rhindon when wielded properly – which was saying something, since Peter in full battle mode with his sword was an awe-inspiring sight indeed.

"I ask your forgiveness, Your Majesty," Caspian replied after a moment. He paused, obviously choosing his words carefully before continuing. "My claim to Narnia's throne is based solely on my desire to give back to the Narnians that which was stolen from them, unlawfully, by my people and my forefathers. I do not argue that Aslan has granted you and your royal siblings the power to deny my claim to the throne. I seek only to bring peace between my people and the Narnians, and to restore what has been lost."

Lucy gave Caspian more points in her mind with that answer. Although he had still not mentioned his faith in Aslan, the fact that he was aware that it was through Aslan's grace that the four of them were Narnia's rulers was another point in his favor, as was his dignified and polite response.

"Intentions and desires can be as fleeting as the changing tides," Peter pounced on Caspian's statement, his words a challenge without being hostile. "What proof do we – or the Narnians – have that your words are not just that?"

The confrontation had by now drawn the attention of the Narnians who had still been inside the How, and Lucy could sense them gathering on the various tiers of the How, watching the scene unfolding outside the How.

To his credit, Caspian did not even hesitate with his response, as if he had anticipated this question. "You have so such proof, Majesties. All I can say is that, with Aslan's blessings and his grace, it would be my hope that I would not be so base in my decisions. Such an attitude is like that of the usurper, my uncle Miraz, who has betrayed everything that I hold dear, as well as my people and the Narnians with his treachery. I have been betrayed…I have no desire to become a traitor or to be foresworn in the promises that I have made to the Narnians."

Lucy noticed that even Peter seemed pleased with Caspian's response, although she doubted that anyone could read him except for his siblings. She was equally pleased with the prince's response as well as his acknowledgement of Aslan's power in Narnia. It could just be lip service, but she doubted that. Despite the even tone of Caspian's words, there had been sincerity and passion in what he had said. It was obvious that the idea of being a traitor disturbed him greatly.

Caspian's answer also put a new twist on the situation. Thus far, no one had mentioned why Caspian had been pursued by the Telmarine soldiers. But mention of an usurping uncle…that explained a great deal. If Caspian was telling the truth, he would have had to flee for his life, since an usurper would never permit a rival for power to remain alive.

Peter regarded Caspian for a moment before he nodded. He glanced at each of his siblings, nodding with his head for them to step aside with him so that they could discuss the situation. While they could communicate without words if necessary, using only gestures and facial expressions, for an issue this important, they all preferred to discuss it amongst themselves, quietly.

They gathered close together and Peter dropped his voice low, so as not to be overheard by the Narnians that were watching the confrontation. "Well?"

Susan was the first to respond. "He has a temper that he will have to master – he didn't react well to your challenge of his claim to the throne, Peter – but time and seasoning will go a long way towards remedying that, especially if he gets a chance to observe others. I sensed that he was sincere about his intentions to give back what was stolen from the Narnians, and in a way, shares some guilt about the situation, although I don't think he had anything to do with it. He's too young to have had anything to do with the initial invasion."

Edmund and Lucy nodded in agreement of their sister's evaluation of Caspian. Because Caspian was a prince, he probably wasn't used to being challenged in anything except combat. That was an attitude he would definitely have to overcome, but Susan was right that it _could_ be overcome, if he was willing to put in the effort. Having a temper wasn't a bad thing…Peter had quite the fierce temper, as did Edmund, but they had both learned to control it and to harness the power it gave them. Peter was more easily provoked than Edmund, but between the two of them they balanced each other well and were able to compensate for each other when one of them was provoked to the point of rage.

Lucy spoke up next. "He seems sincere of his trust in Aslan."

Edmund frowned. "I don't know about that Lu. He didn't mention Aslan until he started talking about being counted a traitor."

Lu shook her head. "Yes, but you have to remember that the Telmarines don't believe in Aslan," she countered. "Having faith in someone that he has always been told is a myth doesn't happen overnight, and I think that with time he'll learn to put his trust in Aslan, especially when Aslan comes to help us."

She could sense that Edmund's thoughts were on his own dealings with Aslan. When the four of them had visited the Stone Table during the second year of their reign, Edmund had admitted that he had not felt a pleasant sensation the first time that Mr. Beaver had told them about Aslan, but he attributed that to the food that the Witch had given him. It wasn't until Edmund had had a chance to talk to Aslan when he'd been freed from the Witch that he had been able to put his faith in Aslan. The expressions crossed Edmund's face rapidly, and only her years of reading her siblings' faces for information allowed her to know what Edmund was thinking. Finally, Edmund nodded in acceptance of her decision.

They looked at Edmund now, awaiting his judgment of Caspian. Edmund was quiet for a moment as he put his thoughts in order. That was one thing that made Edmund such a force to be reckoned with. Whatever his personal thoughts or feelings about a matter, he was able to set them aside and look at a situation and make a judgment based solely on logic and what the law stated. Lucy had never been able to understand how he was able to do that. She was passionate about her beliefs, as she had demonstrated when she had seen Aslan at the gorge, and she fought to make herself heard and understood. Edmund was passionate about his beliefs as well, but he was able to argue his case logically, no matter what they were discussing. It wasn't a trait that he had had before they had been crowned, but it had developed over the first few years of their reign.

"I believe that Caspian is sincere in what he says," Edmund finally said, pausing for a moment, as he weighed his next words. "The betrayal by his uncle taught him something, and it is something that Caspian has become determined to rectify. He is not _ready_ to be King, but then, neither were we at first. He will learn, and when he does he will be a very good King."

Peter looked at each of his siblings in turn. Lucy watched him, seeing the emotions and thoughts running through Peter's eyes. Peter had taken in everything that they had said, as well as his own opinions and was now trying to come to a decision. Finally, the High King nodded and indicated that they should join Caspian again to give him their decision.

They moved back to the head of the ramp and arranged themselves as before. Lucy watched Caspian as his eyes drifted past each of them, trying to figure out what they had decided before Peter announced the decision, before he refocused his attention on Peter.

Peter met his gaze for a long moment, apparently studying him one more time and factoring whatever he saw or sensed into his judgment of Caspian before he blinked slowly. "Caspian, I believe that it goes without saying that neither I nor my royal siblings are entirely happy with circumstances as they currently stand in Narnia." He paused for a moment, watching as Caspian nodded. "However, based on the judgment of my royal siblings, the opinions of the Narnians I have spoken to, and my own experience and knowledge of Aslan and his ways, I have decided that, unless further contradictory evidence presents itself, you do have a valid claim to the throne of Narnia."

Caspian let his breath out slowly, as if not wanting to believe the good news. Behind him, Lucy could see the other Narnians relaxing, now that they knew they wouldn't have to worry about choosing between a Prince they weren't sure they could trust but were willing to follow, and the Kings and Queens who, despite being appointed by Aslan, had abandoned them for twenty-five years.

"In light of this decision, my royal siblings and I have decided to aid you in helping to restore Narnia's glory. However," Peter continued, before his tone changed to include a warning, "we do reserve the right to change our minds about the decision we have made if further evidence reveals that we have made an error in our judgment or Aslan deems otherwise. Do you understand the decision that we have reached?"

Caspian bowed. "I do understand, High Majesty. I only hope that I can prove my sincerity, not only to you, but also to the Narnians and to Aslan." He straightened up and met Peter's eyes again.

Peter finally offered the older boy a smile, and Lucy smiled as well, glad that this was out of the way. She understood why Peter felt the need to test Caspian before giving him their support, although she didn't fully agree. However, she knew that it was important to Peter. He already felt guilty about abandoning his responsibilities to Narnia when they had been sent back to England. Now he was trying to prove to the Narnians that the four of them still had Narnia's welfare at heart. Peter needed to know that Caspian wasn't working with his uncle and would later betray Narnia at a crucial time.

Peter stepped forward and clasped hands with Caspian, greeting him as he would have greeted a long-time ally. Caspian smiled and returned the greeting, sharing it with Edmund as well, before turning and bowing low to the two Queens and lightly kissing the backs of their hands.

"We need to talk," the High King said calmly. "Caspian, will you and the Lady Aislynn join us at the Stone Table as soon as you've had a chance to refresh yourself? You both have information that I would like to have before we begin making plans."

Caspian nodded in agreement, as did Aislynn. "Of course, Your Majesty," the prince replied.

Peter nodded and turned, gesturing for his siblings to follow him. They fell into step behind him, although Lucy paused and looked back, watching as Caspian and Aislynn spoke quietly. Something about that picture just seemed…right…especially when her suspicions about Aislynn's identity were factored in. All she could do was wait and see. With Aslan's blessings, everything would be made clear very soon.


	14. Chapter 13: Making Plans

_**Author's Note: **This chapter was a pain to write! I knew what I wanted to happen, but the thoughts were not coming very smoothly! I'm pretty happy with the way it has turned out though...and I think you'll like it, faithful readers! Don't forget to read and review! I thrive on them! Hopefully, the next chapter will not be as long in coming!_

_**Chapter Thirteen: Making Plans**_

_The palace at Anvard…that evening…_

King Cor, eldest son of King Lune of Archenland, moved through the hallways of his home at a brisk, yet unhurried pace. It was almost time for dinner to begin and his twin brother and his wife were waiting for him. He wasn't late, but the meeting with Lord Sar had lasted a little bit longer than he had anticipated, mainly due to the nobleman's extreme case of stubbornness.

Cor shook his head as he walked, thinking about that meeting. He had been meeting with all of the Lords in the Court as a courtesy, to let them know that he might soon be calling on the young men in their districts to go north on a campaign to help free Narnia from the Telmarines. Many of the Lords were not happy because it was nearly harvest time, and if the men were gone too long, the crop yields would be poor because there wouldn't be enough strong workers to pull all of the crops in before winter.

Cor was not keen on sending the men at this time of the year either, for the same reason, but now seemed to be the perfect time to lead them in a strike against the Telmarines. There was some type of internal turmoil (what exactly, he wasn't sure – Aislynn was supposed to find that out and report back to him in the next day or two), and if the turmoil was severe enough, the army would be slow to respond and he would be able to get his men up to the Narnian's stronghold at the How before they realized that allies had come up from the South. He only needed word from Aislynn on the situation before he could commit to a plan, since he wouldn't risk his men's lives unnecessarily.

The Lords were objecting to this plan to help the Narnians, not because they didn't want to help, but because of the timing. However, Cor was determined to send his men now. He still felt guilty about not having been able to send the army to aid Narnia when the Telmarines first invaded, but at the time he and his father had been forced to look to their own borders as Calormen made another of their periodic attempts to take over Archenland. Narnia had understood, and after the Calormen raiders were quelled, there hadn't been a good opportunity to risk taking his army up against the much larger Telmarine force.

He still wasn't keen on the numbers of his men versus the number of Telmarines, but with the Narnians beginning to rally against their oppressors (and the internal turmoil of which Cor had only heard rumors) the time was showing all the signs of being ripe to counter-invade and restore balance.

Cor had almost reached the corridor that would lead to the dining hall when a servant came hurrying up to him. "Your Majesty!"

Cor stopped and waited while the servant caught up and caught his breath from running through the halls trying to find him. After a moment, the man straightened up and bowed quickly. "A messenger from Narnia has just arrived, Sire. He claims to bear a message from Lady Aislynn."

"Bring him to the war room, and then fetch my brother and ask him to join us," Cor said instantly. After you've done that, tell my lady wife to start dinner without us and tell her we'll join her as soon as possible."

"Yes, Sire," the servant replied, before hurrying off. Cor sighed, but knew that this business with Narnia had to come first. He turned sharply on his heel and headed back down the corridor towards the war room.

The war room was a bit of a misnomer. It was more of a planning room than anything. Carved into the massive table in the center of the room was a highly detailed map of the three kingdoms of Narnia, Archenland, and Calormen. Generations of Archenland rulers had used this map to plan campaigns and battles, the level of detail making it easy to pick routes for marching and supply lines, ideal battle ground, and – if necessary – routes for retreat.

Cor moved to the side of the table that held the Narnian portion of the map and studied it. Bringing his troops up to join the Narnians at the How would be perhaps a four to five day walk, based simply on the size of the force he wanted to bring. It wouldn't take as long if they could be sure they wouldn't hit any pockets of Telmarine patrols, but it would take longer and be riskier if they were fighting as they went. That was why he was relying on Aislynn to give him intelligence about the Telmarine movements.

He was already starting to plan out several routes when his brother entered with the messenger, a large amber and gold gryphon, while a servant waited at the door. Cor was fairly certain that he had never met this particular Narnian, and he made it a point to meet with all the gryphons that came to fetch supplies for the Narnian resistance.

Corin moved to stand at his twin's side as the gryphon bowed before offering a tightly rolled scroll to him. "Your Majesty. This message comes from Lady Aislynn. She wished me to wait and see if you needed me to carry a reply to her."

Cor accepted the offered scroll from the gryphon. "Thank you, good sir, for your promptness in bringing this message to me. I do not know if I will need to send a reply, but if you would be so kind as to wait while I read this missive and consider the news you bring, I will be able to let you know soon."

The gryphon nodded, and Cor turned to the servant. "See to it that food and water are made ready for him, along with a place to rest while I make my decision." The servant bowed and Cor turned back to the gryphon. "If you go with him, my good sir, he will see to it that your needs are taken care of until I have need of your services."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the gryphon replied, bowing again before turning and following the servant out of the room. The servant pulled the door closed after them, leaving Cor and his brother alone in the war room.

Corin turned to his twin and regarded him. "Should I get Kris? She will want to know that word has come from her daughter."

Cor shook his head. "Not yet. Let me read the missive first to make sure that there is no bad news. You know that Kris will not be able to take a shock well if we're not ready to support her."

Corin nodded and watched as his brother pulled out a short knife and carefully lifted the wax seal. To Cor's surprise, he found a smaller sealed scroll wrapped up inside the larger one. He frowned, wondering why Aislynn would have felt the need to send two missives, before setting the second one aside and turning his attention to the first, reading it aloud so his brother would be equally informed.

"_To His Majesty, King Cor of Archenland at Anvard, from Lady Aislynn of Anvard:_

"_Greetings!_

"_My dearest cousin, may Aslan's blessings continue to be on you, Aravis, and Corin. I know it has not been that long since last I saw you, but it is my hope that your fortunes have not changed._

"_I have made contact with the Narnian resistance and delivered your message to them. They welcome your support and seem to believe that with your support they will drive the Telmarines back out of Narnia._

"_I have also made contact with Prince Caspian and confirmed the truth of the rumors that we have heard. Caspian has been under the care of his uncle Miraz and his aunt Prunaprismia ever since the death of his father, Caspian the ninth, until the time when Prince Caspian came of age and could claim the throne. Some nights ago, Lady Prunaprismia gave birth to a son, and with an heir of his own, Miraz decided that Prince Caspian was no longer needed. He sent a detachment of guards to Caspian's chamber within an hour of the birth to execute Caspian."_

Cor paused as he read that passage and looked at his twin, who looked equally shocked and appalled at the traitorous behavior. Cor cleared his throat after a moment and turned his attention back to the letter.

"_With the help of his tutor, Caspian escaped just before the guards arrived and fled into the woods, where he encountered the Narnians. They were suspicious of him at first, but he has pledged that he will give back what was stolen from them, if they help him reclaim his throne. He is young in my opinion, with a distinct lack of training in government and the nuances of ruling, but sincere in what he has promised. I believe that he can be trusted to do as he has claimed, and he welcomes our assistance and a chance to ally with Archenland."_

The following paragraph was a rough outline of the Telmarine patrol movements around the How, apparently gathered from the gryphons and the other talking animals that could slip through the forest unrecognized. Thus far, it seemed that the How had remained undiscovered, although Cor wasn't sure how they had managed that bit of luck. Cor skimmed over that, before he continued reading:

"_However, there has been other surprising news, dear cousin. As I was preparing to send this missive to you, one of the Badgers, named Trufflehunter, came to me and introduced me to four young children. The eldest appears sixteen, the youngest nine or ten. They are not Telmarine children, and they claim to be the Kings and Queens of Narnia."_

Cor blinked and reread the last sentence. "The Kings and Queens?" he echoed, staring in shock at the letter before raising his eyes to meet the startled gaze of his twin. He stared at Corin for a moment before he spoke. "Could it be? Could the Kings and Queens have finally returned after all this time?"

Corin wordlessly shook his head. He seemed incapable of speech, so great was his shock.

Cor turned his attention back to the letter and began reading it again.

"…_they claim to be the Kings and Queens of Narnia. The eldest boy is Peter, and the other three are Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. Trufflehunter assures me that they are the Kings and Queens, and that they were summoned by the magic of Queen Susan's horn. I do not know all of the details of their plans yet, but they asked me to send this letter in the hopes that your plans will help them make their own. By King Peter's request, I have enclosed a letter from him for you, dearest cousin._

"_I await further instructions from you, my King. In the meantime, I will use my skills to aid the Narnians in any way that I can._

_Aslan's grace be with you, cousin."_

Cor placed the letter from Aislynn on the table before reaching for the second sealed scroll. He used his knife to lift the wax seal, unrolling it while his brother looked over his shoulder.

Graceful, flowing script scrawled across the page. Although it looked as though the letter had been written quickly, it was still neat and easy to read. Corin looked at the writing before nodding at Cor. "It has been some time since I saw King Peter's writing, but I am certain that this is it."

Cor looked thoughtfully at his brother. Corin had had a great deal more exposure to the Narnian Kings and Queens than his older brother, because when Cor was an infant, he had been abducted and raised in Calormen, only being found and returning to Archenland when he was twelve, and he had only been back in Archenland for a year before the Kings and Queens vanished.

Taking a deep breath, Cor turned his attention to reading the letter.

"_To His Majesty, King Cor of Archenland at Anvard from High King Peter of Narnia at Aslan's How:_

"_Greetings and Aslan's blessings upon you my friend. I am pleased to hear from Lady Aislynn that things are going well for you._

"_My siblings and I have much to make up for, after our long absence from Narnia, and it is because of that and because of our responsibility as Narnia's monarchs that I plead with you for your assistance and give thanks for the assistance that you have already provided over the years. I have no doubt that it is because of the aid that you have provided that the Narnians have flourished as well as they have._

"_We have reached Aslan's How and have discovered some of what has been occurring during our unintentional absence. It is my hope that you will be able to send additional troops to support us because it appears that the Narnians are badly outnumbered by the Telmarines. Please send word on what, if any, support you can send as soon as possible so we can begin planning the campaign._

"_On a personal note, my friend, I have an important request to ask of you. When my siblings and I departed Narnia, Krisalyn, my beloved wife, was left behind. I have been most concerned about her and about the child she was carrying. When I was told that she may have fled Cair Paravel just before it fell, I felt some relief that she was safe, but no one that I have spoken to seems to know what has happened to her. It was my hope that you have some news of Krisalyn and my child. I beg you, as a friend, if you know anything of her whereabouts, that you send word to me as soon as possible. It would ease my mind greatly to know that she is safe and well, for I intend to go to her as soon as this campaign has ended._

"_I hope to hear word from you soon, my friend, and in the meantime, may Aslan's grace and blessings be upon you and yours."_

Cor lowered the letter and looked at his brother. Corin looked back at him steadily, wondering what thoughts were racing through his twin's mind. He couldn't make the decision, and not for the first time, he was glad that he was not King. He had never been happy about being the Crown Prince, and when Cor had been found, not only had he regained a brother, but he had gone from first in succession to second, simply because he was the younger of the two of them by five minutes.

Cor laid the letter from King Peter on the table and turned his attention to the map. "We need to begin making plans, since I have every intention of sending troops to reinforce the Narnian position."

He began studying the area of the map that represented the border between Narnia and Archenland. There were very few places where it was safe to cross the border between the two countries because of the mountain range that formed the border. He was reluctant to send his troops up through the main pass for several reasons. The main pass was heavily guarded by Telmarine soldiers, which was why he had sent Aislynn into Narnia alone, because a young woman could get through where a man could not. An armed force would be slow coming through the pass and they would be easily seen by the guards at the border. There would be plenty of time for the Telmarines to send a messenger to alert the Telmarine leaders.

Less of a concern, although it could become a concern if things changed dramatically between now and when they left Anvard, was the fact that to get to the main pass from Anvard would add another two days marching time to their journey, and then another two days back around. Anvard lay at almost a straight shot to Aslan's How, if it wasn't for the mountains that formed the border.

He sighed. _This is going to take a great deal of coordination_. Cor looked at his brother. "Are you ready to get to the planning, brother-mine?"

Corin looked towards the door with mock-longing on his face. "Dinner is probably half-over…it would be rude to show up so late."

"You and your stomach!" Cor exclaimed, mockingly. "I'll send to have food brought in."

Corin sighed dramatically, before turning his attention to the area of the map that his brother was studying. "I take it you don't want to send them up the main pass, but what about this…?"

* * *

_Aslan's How…same time…_

Peter settled back against a section of rock in the Stone Table wall, gazing at the relief of Aslan as his siblings, Aislynn, and Caspian got settled as well. This had the potential to be quite a long discussion, and there was no point in making themselves miserable while they discussed the situation.

Peter wondered who had carved the relief of Aslan. It was a magnificent representation, and Peter was almost willing to swear that – with the firelight flickering off of it – the carving was actually looking at him and that it was Aslan's kind, wise eyes staring down at him.

"Peter?"

Peter blinked and turned his attention back to the others. Edmund had caught his attention again, gently, and Peter fought back the urge to blush and apologize in embarrassment. He wasn't sure where his mind was lately, and it was starting to annoy him. He could see the odd look that Edmund was shooting him as well, and he knew his brother was wondering what was going on with him too. Peter was usually very attentive to his surroundings, but lately he almost felt as if he was going through the motions like a sleepwalker.

Peter cleared his throat and turned his attention to Caspian and Aislynn. "Caspian, I would like to know anything you can tell us about the situation with the Telmarines. What the size of their army is, when we might expect them to show up here, and what the political situation that brought you here is."

Caspian frowned, but not as if he was displeased. He seemed to be thinking about how to respond to the request. After a moment he looked up and met Peter's eyes. "The first question is probably the easiest one to answer. At the castle – Cair Paravel, I believe you call it?" he directed the question to the four children, who all nodded. He continued with a nod. "At Cair Paravel, my uncle has about two thousand troops, between the ones that live in the castle barracks and the ones that live in the village below the castle with families. Right now, my uncle doesn't fully control the entire army. That privilege is given only to the King."

Peter was happy to hear that number. While two thousand was a lot of troops, and the Narnians gathered here were still outnumbered, if that was all that was brought against them, they had a good chance of being able to hold out, and an even better one if Cor was able to get his troops into place soon enough.

"What about their expected arrival time?" Edmund asked smoothly as Caspian finished.

Caspian shrugged. "That I do not know, but I would expect it to be soon. The army will move quickly when it comes, but since my uncle is not yet King, he cannot command the entire garrison to march without the approval of the entire Council, and I am fairly certain he won't get that without irrefutable proof that I committed treason against my people."

"Evidence could be manufactured," Susan pointed out softly. Caspian turned to her and smiled warmly, earning a small smile back from the oldest Queen.

"That is very true, Your Majesty, but from what I was told by my tutor, the Council does not like my uncle. They were loyal to my father, and the only reason my uncle is in a position of authority, no matter how limited, is because he is my father's brother. As long as I live, though, he cannot legitimately claim the throne unless I abdicate or the Council declares me a traitor."

Peter looked thoughtful at Caspian's last words. "Then your death is what he is after, which means we need to do what we can to protect you."

Caspian looked indignant. "I can take care of myself in a fight, King Peter! I do not need a nursemaid."

Peter frowned deeply at him. "I never said anything about nursemaiding you, Caspian. But to stop your uncle, we have to keep you alive. I am not doubting your fighting prowess, although I would like to test your skills for my own peace of mind, but you are important to Narnia."

Aislynn reached over and laid a hand on Caspian's arm. "Listen to him, Caspian," she urged him softly. "You are the one who rallied the Narnians. There's no point in throwing your life away because you're too stubborn to listen to reason. That would not serve any purpose."

Caspian turned to look at Aislynn and after a long moment, turned back to Peter and nodded. "Very well, Your Majesty. I apologize for my outburst."

Peter waved off the apology. "I took no offense, Caspian. Now, can you tell us what the political situation is like at the moment? If things are as bad as you've indicated, now would be a good time to take the fight to the Telmarines, once we know all the resources we have available."

Caspian sighed and nodded. "It was my grandfather, Caspian the Eighth, who was in power in Telmar at the time everything started. This was about forty years ago. A series of droughts and poor harvests over a ten-period finally convinced him that Telmar was a dying land, and that his people would all die if they stayed and continued to farm the increasingly poor land. So he packed everyone up and they set out to the East."

"Why east?" Lucy asked, interrupting Caspian. Why not north, south, or west?"

Caspian looked at the youngest Queen. "They couldn't go south because of Calormen, and so much of the land is barren, it wouldn't have been much better than Telmar. To the west, as far as they had ever scouted, the land was equally barren, and to the north, it was too cold for too much of the year to hope for a reliable harvest. There were rumors that the lands to the east were fruitful and beautiful, as well as unclaimed by anyone. It was a long trek, across strange and inhospitable lands, before they finally made it into Narnia. My grandfather was killed just before they first entered Narnia, and the throne passed to my father, who was the heir because he was older." Now Caspian had the grace to look sheepish. "It was my father who conquered Narnia, and for that," he met each of the Pevensies' eyes in turn, "I am deeply sorry."

The Pevensies all looked at each other before Peter nodded. "Your apology is accepted, Caspian. But please, continue."

Caspian took a deep breath, before continuing. "From what I was taught, when my people crossed the border into Narnia and first encountered the Narnians, they believed the Narnians were wild beasts and that Narnia was everything that they had heard rumored - a wild, savage land. They began moving in, not realizing that there was a governing body, and when the Narnians attacked at the invasion, my father ordered the army to fight back."

He paused and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. "That is the version that I was taught, at any rate, although it would not surprise me if my uncle ordered that I be taught that version in order to cover up the fact that my people attacked the Narnians first."

Peter sighed. "We may never know who started the fighting. Each side will have their own version about what happened." The others all nodded in agreement.

"My father continued to drive across Narnia, until a massive Narnian force tried to bar their way. It was a fierce battle, but my people won and forced the Narnians into a retreat. When they reached Cair Paravel, my father placed it under siege and they held out for quite some time – six months, I believe? – before my father's army finally took the castle."

"Were there ever any attempts at negotiation?" Peter asked. "Did your father ever discuss anything with Queen Krisalyn?" His attention was on Caspian, so he didn't notice – nor did Edmund and Susan – when Aislynn looked sharply at the High King and an odd expression crossed her features. Lucy, however, was watching Aislynn more closely than Caspian, and she caught the fleeting expression. She chose not to say anything to Peter however.

Caspian looked at Peter blankly. "Queen Krisalyn?" he echoed. "I have never heard that name mentioned before. I was taught that the last surviving Narnians from the great battle were the ones who sheltered in the castle. No monarch ever came to lay claim to the land, from my understanding." He now looked puzzled as he gazed at the Pevensies. "My tutor told me that in Narnia there were two Kings and two Queens…but were there three Queens?"

Peter nodded. "Queen Krisalyn is my wife. When my siblings and I left Narnia, she was not with us, having remained at Cair Paravel, so she was left behind."

"Well, from everything I was taught, no ruler ever came to meet with my father," Caspian said after a moment. "My father claimed the throne of Narnia, and he ruled for seven years after the battle. I was born during his seventh year of rule. When I was only a few months old, my father died in his sleep one night. My care was passed to my uncle, Miraz and his wife Prunaprismia. Miraz has acted as regent for the throne my whole life." Caspian fell silent for a moment, before he spoke again. "I have always known that he wanted my throne. I suppose the only reason I have lived as long as I have is because he did not have an heir of his own. But a few nights ago, my aunt gave birth to a son. Within moments of the birth, my uncle ordered his general to have me killed in my bed."

The Pevensies exchanged looks at that story. Caspian fell silent again, and Lucy stood and walked over to him, resting her small hand on his shoulder and smiling at him. "Please, finish your story, Caspian."

Caspian looked up at the youngest Queen and returned her smile. "There's not that much more to tell. My professor woke me up and helped me escape the castle. I fled into the woods as he advised, but I was knocked off my horse by a low-hanging branch. That was when I met Nikabrik and Trufflehunter. Nikabrik knocked me unconscious, and when I woke up I was inside Trufflehunter's house. They led me to the other Narnians."

Susan fingered the horn hanging at her side. She had picked up a leather strap and strung it on the horn so she could wear it from her belt. "How did you gain possession of my horn?"

Caspian shrugged. "My professor handed it to me just before he sent me out of the castle on my horse. He told me that it had taken him many years to track it down, and that I should only use it at my greatest need. When I was lying on the ground outside Trufflehunter's house and Nikabrik was coming after me and the soldiers right behind me, I used it. I felt that my life was in peril and I had no other choice. I don't know where my professor got it."

Peter frowned, an old memory surfacing. "Our gifts…they might still be at Cair Paravel."

Edmund and his sisters looked over at him, as did Aislynn and Caspian. "What do you mean, Peter?"

"Gifts?" Aislynn and Caspian spoke at the same time as Edmund.

Peter gestured to Susan's horn. "Our first days in Narnia, we received gifts from Father Christmas," he explained. "I received my sword, Rhindon, and my shield. Susan received her bow and arrows and her horn. Lucy received a dagger and a cordial that could heal any wound."

Caspian interrupted before Peter could continue. "What about King Edmund? What did you receive?" he asked the younger King.

"I didn't receive anything," Edmund said calmly, although a flash of old regret crossed his face. "I wasn't with the others at the time that they met Father Christmas." He turned to his brother. "What do you mean about the gifts being at Cair Paravel, Pete?"

"The first day we were back in Eng – Spare Oom," Peter corrected himself, not wanting to explain to Aislynn and Caspian about England. Narnia's history had recorded that the four of them had been the rulers of a kingdom called Spare Oom, and by the time they realized the mistake, it hadn't been worth the effort to correct the history books. "When I fell asleep…I had a dream about Narnia. Oreius and the royal guard had been sent to find us when we never came back from the hunt, but all they found were our horses and gear, including our gifts. Susan's horn was hanging from her saddle, but the rest of the gifts, and Edmund's weapons, were all lying in a neat pile by a thicket, being guarded by Phillip. Oreius had the gifts brought back to Cair Paravel, back to Krisalyn. It is possible that she had them locked in the treasure room, and Caspian's professor somehow discovered the entrance to the treasure room, and that's where he found Susan's horn. The rest of our gifts may still be there."

Everyone looked slightly more cheered at that. But Susan, logical as always, pointed out a small detail. "If Krisalyn had possession of our gifts, why wouldn't she have taken them with her when she fled Cair Paravel?"

"Maybe she didn't get a chance to retrieve them?" Lucy wondered.

"We won't know until we get a chance to talk to her," Peter replied. "But it's the only way I could see Caspian's tutor getting hold of Susan's horn. If he recognized it when he found it, he would probably recognize the rest of the gifts too."

Caspian looked at Peter steadily. "That is my story, King Peter. Does it help you?"

Peter nodded. "Actually, yes, Caspian. It tells us something about how Narnia came to be in this predicament, and it also tells me that there is some internal turmoil, not only between you and your uncle, but between Miraz and the Council. You mentioned that Miraz doesn't command the full army?"

Caspian nodded. "After my people settled here, the army was divided up and Lords were appointed over the different regions. Each Lord of the Council controls a small part of the army from their own holdings. Only the King can command the full army to come together. That prevents one of the Lords from thinking he can use the troops to overthrow the others. My uncle is the Lord Protector, not the King, so he cannot command the full army. To use the full army, he must get the entire Council to agree on his plan, and right now, they never would."

"That's somewhat of a relief," Edmund noted, glancing at his siblings, who nodded in agreement.

"Is there anything else that you can think to tell us, Caspian?" Susan asked quietly. While Edmund and Peter were the true tacticians of the four of them, Lucy and Susan knew a lot about it too, from sitting in on the meetings to plan campaigns – Susan, because she often had charge of the archers' contingent, and Lucy because she would ride with the army to wait with the healers and the support staff. They had picked up no little bit of information from listening to their brothers.

Caspian looked at the Gentle Queen before shaking his head no. "Nothing else. I can't predict what Miraz will do, but I wouldn't completely discount the possibility that he will find a way to gain control of the entire army."

"So it's something we need to be aware of and anticipate a plan for, but not likely?" Peter said briskly. When Caspian nodded, Peter turned to Aislynn. "Lady Aislynn, did King Cor tell you anything about what to expect from Archenland in terms of support?"

Aislynn looked thoughtful. "Cor – I mean, King Cor – didn't tell me much, Your Majesty, other than he was definitely planning on bringing a large part of the army, if not the whole army, up to help the Narnians. Corin –" she sighed in frustration, "excuse me, _Prince Corin_ is also likely to come with, and he'll likely bring a small detachment along to scout the route out for the rest of the army so King Cor can get his troops up here in secret."

Peter eyed her speculatively. "You are not used to using the royal titles, are you, Lady Aislynn?" He had noticed her slips before correcting herself, and watching as she flushed, he knew his guess was correct.

"No, Your Majesty, I'm not. I grew up in Anvard, in the Palace. My mother was a dear friend of Their Royal Highnesses during my childhood, before Prince Cor was crowned King, and I often played with them when they were not studying, and my mother arranged for me to take classes with them and Lady Aravis," Aislynn admitted. "They are close friends, and they gave me permission years ago to call them by their names unless we were in Court and it was a formal situation."

Peter nodded. "Don't feel that you have to force yourself to use their titles, then, Aislynn. If you are more comfortable simply calling them by name, we understand. In fact," he looked at his siblings, who all nodded, "unless we are in front of the Narnians as a whole, I believe that both of you may refrain from using our titles as well."

Caspian and Aislynn nodded in thanks, before Aislynn continued. "I sent Cor what information I have been able to gather about the patrols south of the How, with the help of the gryphons and the talking birds, and I hope that the messenger I sent will return sometime tomorrow with plans of what Cor and Corin hope to do to assist us."

She paused for a moment before continuing. "Knowing them the way I do, however, I think that they are most likely to have already begun rallying the army and were just waiting for the information I sent. I wouldn't be surprised if Corin shows up within two or three days, depending on the size of the group he has with him, the speed they move at, and the route they take, with Cor and the army another two days or so behind them."

Peter looked thoughtful. "So at most, we might only have to hold the Telmarines off for a week or so. That's not impossible. Supplies are high right now, and if the Telmarines arrive before Cor gets the rest of the army up here, that might work in our favor because we could catch them in a pincer maneuver, provided we can alert him as to what is going on."

The others nodded. Peter looked at the rest of the group. "I don't believe that there is much more that we can do today. Until we know for sure what Cor and Corin intend to do, I believe that we've made the best plans that we can. We've got supplies, and thanks to Caspian's raid, we've got enough weapons now for the entire army. The archers are still working on making more arrows, but they should have plenty by the time we need them." He rose to his feet and the others followed a half-second later. "For now, I declare this council adjourned."

* * *

_The palace at Anvard…_

The door to the war room was pushed open, but Cor and Corin, deep into their strategy session, didn't even look up, even when a familiar, lightly accented voice spoke. "So here's where the two of you got off to. The entire Court was in a stir, wondering what would cause both the King and the Prince to skip dinner."

"If we want to aid Narnia, we need to make sure that we have our plans firmly in place before we drag the army up there," Cor replied absently to his wife, not looking up from where he was tracing the mountain range that separated Narnia from Archenland. It was still proving to be the most difficult part of the march, simply because of how few safe passages there were through the mountains, especially with a force the size Cor intended to bring.

"I appreciate the effort, cousin, but you do still have a duty to your people," a new, feminine voice replied. "Your army trusts you, and they will follow you wherever you lead them."

"They trust me because we always have a solid plan in place," Cor retorted. "We may not always be able to stick to the plan, but it is always in place before we depart, and you know that all too well, Kris." Now he did look up, although he kept his finger on the map at the place he had been scrutinizing.

He always felt a sense of sorrow when he looked at his older cousin these days. Time and the trials of her life had not been easy on her, despite what most people would assume when they looked at the proud, graceful woman, who, even on her worst days, was still dignified and elegant. Her every movement, gesture, or glance told an onlooker that this was a Queen of great power. A Queen in exile, to be sure, but a Queen nonetheless.

The years had taken their toll on Krisalyn. Her once jet-black hair was now streaked through with silver, giving it a muted, faded appearance that somehow lent her an air of respectability without taking away any of her beauty or her dignity. The spark of life in her violet eyes had also faded and it gave her a distant, subdued expression, although she could still summon authority in her gaze and her eyes still flashed with fire when she was provoked past reason.

Though she was only fifty-six years of age, and could carry that age well, there was a weariness and a sense of…Cor inwardly sighed. He didn't know how to describe Krisalyn. By all rights, she should still be at the peak of her life, but too much sorrow and grief weighed down on her, and though she bore under the burden well, it was beginning to overcome her, and it was for that reason that he privately wanted to weep whenever he set eyes on her these days.

Although Aravis had been no stranger to the life of a noble when she first arrived in Archenland twenty-six years ago, she hadn't truly been prepared for the responsibilities and duties of a Queen when she had married Cor twelve years later. Krisalyn had already been at Anvard for nearly a decade at that point, and the Narnian Queen had been ever so gracious about helping Aravis adjust to the changed responsibility of going from a noblewoman and friend of Cor and Corin to a wonderful Queen of Archenland.

Cor's gaze drifted to that of his wife. He and Aravis had seriously begun considering starting a family of their own recently, and Krisalyn had been wonderful about giving them advice, based on her own experience, although their situation was a bit different than Krisalyn's. For one, unless they had an extraordinary string of ill-fortune, they would not be raising their family alone, as Krisalyn had been forced to do. Even if, through some misfortune, Cor was slain in battle, Corin would still be there, and Krisalyn, and Adelie, Cor's mother. After King Lune's death, she had chosen to abdicate from the throne in favor of her son and go into retirement in Anvard, rather than rule alone. She would gladly help to raise her grandchildren, if it came to that.

"Has word come from Aislynn?" Krisalyn asked, stepping further into the room as Aravis came over to stand next to her husband. "That is the only thing I can think of that would cause this frenzy of planning."

Cor looked around the room. Indeed, in the last few hours, a frenzy had broken out. Papers were scattered all across the sections of the table they were not using, dishes and cups stood on a nearby side-board, waiting to be removed by a servant, and both Cor and Corin had removed their outer tunics and vests and tossed them over various chairs.

Before he could answer, Krisalyn spotted the two letters sitting where he had left them on the table. She recognized her daughter's handwriting on one and picked it up before Cor had a chance to stop her. The older woman's eyes skimmed the letter, a frown crossing her face at different points. Cor braced himself for what he had no doubt was coming.

He knew as soon as she reached the point in the letter. Krisalyn froze, and her face, already pale and weary, went as white as a sheet. Her eyes tracked back over the letter, rereading the words her daughter had written again and again. Slowly, she lowered the letter, not even bothering to finish it, and laid it back on the table next to the rolled up scroll that held King Peter's letter.

Cor was already moving, and as Krisalyn fell backwards, he caught her and lowered her into a near-by chair as Aravis poured a goblet of water from the pitcher standing on the side-board. Corin moved over and took one of his handkerchiefs, dipping it into the water that Aravis brought over and gently sponging Krisalyn's face and the back of her neck as Aravis urged her to drink and Cor held her hand reassuringly.

Several sips of water later, and Krisalyn's eyes met Cor's. "Is it true?" she whispered hoarsely. "Is it true?" Before she could say anything else, a coughing fit seized her and all three royals did their best to support her. Unfortunately, at this point all they could do was wait for the fit to subside. It was an old routine, and one they were all familiar with, to their sorrow.

As the fit subsided, some minutes later, Krisalyn leaned back in the chair, wheezing slightly as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes, however, remained locked on Cor, waiting for his answer.

"We don't know for sure, Kris," Cor said softly. "Corin thought he recognized Peter's handwriting, but the description sent by Aislynn doesn't make sense. For now, we're not assuming anything, because Aislynn wouldn't necessarily know what to look for. Corin is going to lead an advance force up to the How, leaving tomorrow. He should arrive some days ahead of me and the rest of the army, and he'll discover the truth behind it."

Krisalyn closed her eyes for a long moment, taking several deep breaths to calm her breathing, before she opened them and locked gazes with Cor again. Her voice was resolved and steady, and the fire that had been missing for so long was back. "I'm going with you."

Cor and Corin both immediately protested.

"Kris, that's crazy! We're going to a battle, not a state visit –"

"You're not well enough for the trip, Kris, and it won't be good for you to get your hopes up – "

Aravis simply sat back and watched, not commenting. Cor watched his wife and realized they had already lost this argument. There was no swaying Krisalyn when her mind was made up, and he could see in the firmness of her gaze that she was not going to back down.

His protests fizzled out, and he looked at her helplessly before looking at his brother. Corin seemed to have come to the same understanding and returned his look. There was no point in arguing.

"Where is Peter's letter?" Krisalyn asked as soon as she saw they had given up on convincing her to stay.

Cor sighed and reached over and picked up the letter. He held it lightly in his hand for a moment, before placing it in her outstretched one. This could be the proof he needed, he thought. After all, surely Krisalyn would recognize her own husband's handwriting.

Krisalyn unrolled the scroll and her eyes fastened on the neat scrawl inside. "This is his writing," she said after a long moment. "I'm sure of it." She began reading the letter, her eyes skimming back and forth across the parchment.

Cor watched her closely. The circumstances surrounding the disappearance of Narnia's four monarchs and the abandonment by King Peter of his wife and unborn child was a touchy one with Krisalyn. On the one hand, the abandonment and being forced to raise their daughter alone had been viciously painful for her. Cor had thought that he had understood what she was going through, although he had wondered why she had never remarried. She was, under Narnia's laws, within her rights to do, although she had never even considered it.

On the other hand, she was still deeply faithful to her husband and to the vows that she had made before Aslan and all of Narnia. When he had, cautiously, asked her why she still clung to her belief that Peter was still alive one night, she had simply looked at him with those dark, pain-filled eyes and told him that Peter had sworn to her that he would never abandon her, and that he would always come back for her. Peter had never broken a promise to her, and she could not imagine that the most solemn vow he had made would be the first one that he would choose to break, so she would wait, and hope, and trust that Aslan knew what was happening.

That had been a few years after she had fled to Anvard for refuge from the Telmarines, and the ensuing two decades had changed many things. Although still kind and sweet to Cor and his family, and loving to her daughter (who looked a great deal like Peter, if you knew what to look for), the topic had become a bitter one for her. With each year that passed, the burden of false hope had pressed down on her more and more, and she seemed to age before her time.

Cor's thoughts were pulled back to his cousin as a mild oath escaped her lips. "How dare he," she whispered harshly. "How dare…'My beloved wife, Krisalyn, was left behind. I have been most concerned about her and the child that she was carrying…'" she quoted. "It has been twenty-five damned years and that's all he can say?"

Cor and Corin exchanged glances before looking at Aravis, who subtly shook her head. Aravis and Krisalyn could almost always be found together these days, and the Queen of Archenland often had a better reading on her fellow Queen than Cor and his brother. That subtle headshake had been a warning not to say anything. Cor could read his wife very well, and Corin could read him, so it worked out quite well.

"Kris," Aravis said softly, resting her hand on the older woman's arm. "It was a formal letter from one King to another. If Peter did write it, I'm sure that he wasn't about to pour his heart out on paper, just in case the letter was intercepted. You know the formalities between rulers better than I do. Don't let your emotions get in the way."

Krisalyn turned cold, angry eyes on Aravis, but the younger Queen simply stared her down and finally Krisalyn subsided. The fire and the rage went out of her and she suddenly seemed smaller and wearier than Cor had seen her in a very long time. "It's been so long…" she whispered.

"I know, Kris, I know. But all he's asked is for Cor to send word that you're well and to tell him where you are so he can come and find you after this situation is resolved," Aravis told her, having read the letter over Krisalyn's shoulder. "He very well may want to simply wait and speak to you in person. All he's asking for is information."

Krisalyn met Cor's eyes. "I am going with you, Cor. I need to see Peter, I need to know that it is him."

Cor sighed and knelt in front of her. "Kris, it's not necessary for you to come. Corin and I can send word back to you if it really is Peter, and then you can come up once the battle is over and it is safe to travel. You shouldn't be at the How now. If we lose the battle, at least one of Narnia's monarchs will still be alive."

Krisalyn's face hardened again, but this time in reluctance and guilt. "I am not Narnia's Queen any longer, Cor. I haven't been for a long time. I abandoned my people instead of staying to fight. I could have snuck back over Narnia's borders at any time in the past twenty-five years, but I haven't. I've used excuse after excuse as a reason why I haven't done more for my people. I have been in hiding. Aslan named me Steadfast, but my faith has been sorely lacking." She looked at the younger man. "Now is the time for me to go back and rectify my mistakes, help my people, and then surrender a throne that I do not deserve."

The other royals looked at each other for a long moment as silence fell in the room at Krisalyn's pronouncement. Cor was astonished at the amount of guilt that Krisalyn was carrying. It wasn't logical. He knew very well that she had been in Anvard for a good reason, and despite what she might think, she had done a great deal for Narnia in the last twenty-five years. She may not have been actively ruling her people, but she'd never stopped looking for a way to help them.

"I think you're underestimating everything that you have done, Kris," he finally said when the silence began to grow uncomfortable. "There was only so much you could have done under the circumstances…but now is not the time to quibble about it," he said hastily when it looked like she would protest. "I still don't like the idea of you coming along, but as Narnia's Queen, you do have the right…so I won't say anything against it." He turned back to the map table. "Corin and the scouts will leave in the morning. We'll give them a two-day lead before we follow."

"Where are we going to cross over?" Krisalyn asked, rising to her feet slowly, before walking over to study the map table.

Cor sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, we may have to cross at the main pass. I don't think there is any other way through that will hold up to the use that it will take over the next few days."

Krisalyn studied the map before placing a finger on a point just north of Anvard. "What about right here?" she asked. "This is how I got out of Narnia, and I know that it is a secluded, yet sturdy pass. I didn't even know it was here, but some of the fauns that were with me did and they showed it to me."

Corin and Cor looked at each other before looking at the map. "There's not a pass there," Corin said.

"Oh, yes there is," Krisalyn said stubbornly. She traced the route with her finger. "If we cross the border here – and I doubt the Telmarines are aware it exists – it's a straight shot north to the How."

Cor and Corin looked at each other again. Corin shrugged. "I could take the scouts up that way and check the pass out. If it doesn't work for the army, I'll send a messenger back and you can head for the main pass."

Cor considered their options for a moment. If the Telmarines didn't know the pass was there, they wouldn't be guarding it. He could get his army through and up to the How swiftly and secretly. If it didn't work out, well, there was still the main pass, and at the very least, Corin could get through the smaller pass, double back to the main pass and be able to stop the guards at the border from getting a messenger out, which would still keep their arrival secret.

"All right, Kris, we'll try it," Cor agreed finally. "The worst that can happen is the pass won't work out and we'll have to go back around to the main pass." He looked back at the map of Narnia. The How was defensible, but it was possible that they might have to turn this into a full invasion and take the fight all the way to Cair Paravel. At the very least, they had a working plan, and it was one that allowed for changes, which was the best kind of plan to have. General Oreius had once told Cor, not long after he had returned to Archenland and while he was visiting Cair Paravel before the rulers disappeared, that "plans never survived the first engagement with an enemy, so be prepared to change them if necessary". It was a piece of advice that Cor always kept in mind, and not just for war planning.

He took a deep breath. They had their plans, they might have unexpected allies, and they had the kind of political turmoil among the enemy that could turn an uncertain outcome into a victory. With Aslan's blessings, everything would go according to plan, Narnia would be freed, and peace could be restored.

"On the morrow, we move to liberate Narnia," he said softly.


	15. Chapter 14: Meeting and Reunion

_**Chapter Fourteen: Meeting and Reunion**_

_Aslan's How…_

The impromptu meeting between the four monarchs, the Telmarine prince, and the Archenland lady had broken up a short time ago, and Aislynn was showing the Pevensies where they could get dinner. Their supplies were high, but their army was still large, so food was still somewhat rationed. Several of the Narnians had offered to give their dinners to the Pevensies, but all four had gracefully declined the offer, stating that they would eat under rations the same as everyone else. None of the Pevensies believed in using their rank to get more than everyone else, and in fact they stood near the back of the group that was currently dining, allowing everyone else to proceed them in getting their meals.

After all of them had had a chance to eat the simple, if filling meal, Aislynn turned to King Peter. "Your Majesty, what sleeping arrangements would you like us to arrange? We can set aside a room just for you and your siblings, or, if you prefer, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy can share the room where I have been sleeping, and you and King Edmund could share with Prince Caspian?"

The four siblings glanced at each other, before Peter turned back to Aislynn. "If it isn't an inconvenience to you and Caspian, we can share quarters the way you suggested. There's no need to set up a separate room just for the four of us."

Aislynn nodded and beckoned for the four Pevensies to follow her. She led them on a short trip through the various tunnels until they came to a room that had been set aside for storage. Piles of pallets and blankets were stacked neatly in the room, and Aislynn stepped aside as the Pevensies each selected a blanket and pallet. She stopped them when they tried to leave the storeroom though. "You'll need more than that." Turning back to the piles, she handed each of them a second pallet and then handed several blankets to Caspian before taking several more herself. When Susan looked like she was going to protest, Aislynn explained. "We actually have more pallets and blankets than we need. We put the children to work gathering supplies for making them so they could feel useful, and the adults that are too old to fight or don't know how to make weapons have been assigned to making bedding. I knew that Cor and Corin were likely to come and bring the army with them, and I also know that in order to make the best speed possible, they'll be traveling lightly as far as possessions like bedding goes."

Edmund looked equally hesitant. "Are you certain?" he asked. "It wouldn't be the first time that we've slept in rather rough conditions."

Aislynn nodded. "I'm certain, King Edmund. Besides, these caves get rather cold at night, except right next to the forges, so you'll need the extra blankets just to stay warm. We learned that the hard way when we first set up here."

Peter nodded. "We bow to your more experienced judgment, Aislynn."

Aislynn smiled at Peter, but oddly enough, he noticed that it seemed to be a distant, unfocused smile. When she turned and began leading them back through the tunnels, he frowned slightly. He wasn't sure what he had said to elicit that reaction from her, but at the same time, it didn't seem to be important, so he filed it away for later consideration.

When they reached the passage where most of the sleeping rooms were, Peter and Edmund followed Caspian into the room he was using, while Susan and Lucy followed Aislynn into a second room a few rooms down. Caspian quickly helped them set up their pallets, stacking the two pallets on top of each other, with two blankets on top, and a third blanket folded up into a makeshift pillow. Just as they were finishing, a voice called from the passage. "Prince Caspian? Your Majesties?"

"Come in, Trufflehunter!" Caspian replied instantly.

"Am I disturbing you, Your Majesties?" the Badger asked poking his head into the room.

"Not at all, good Badger," Edmund answered easily. "Did you need to see all of us, or someone in particular?"

Before the Badger could answer, Lucy and Susan poked their heads into the room as well. "What's going on?" the eldest Queen asked.

"Your Majesties, one of our scouts has asked permission to give his report to you in person," Trufflehunter explained.

Caspian and Aislynn, who entered behind the Queens, exchanged looks of amusement. Aislynn looked at Trufflehunter. "Reepicheep?"

Trufflehunter nodded. "Reepicheep."

Caspian looked as if he was trying to smother a laugh, but he nodded after glancing at Peter for permission. "Send him in, Trufflehunter."

The Badger nodded and backed out, re-entering a few moments later, followed by a sight that none of the Pevensies were expecting. The scout in question, who was apparently named Reepicheep, was a sixteen-inch tall Mouse who walked on his back legs, had a tiny rapier belted at his waist, and a jaunty feather attached to a ring that surrounded the base of one of his ears. His fur was a light tan and his wide, dark eyes gave him a charming appearance.

Caspian had managed to compose himself, and no trace of the amusement Trufflehunter's announcement had brought showed on his face. "Sir Reepicheep, your report please."

"Your Highness, I have just returned from my patrol and am happy to report that the Telmarines have yet to discover our location. They are making a methodical search of the woods, since that is where they last saw him. If they continue at the pace that they are currently moving, I would expect them to locate the How within two days."

Caspian nodded gravely. "How many men do they have searching at the moment?"

"Roughly fifty, sire, spread out in patrols of ten, covering all directions beginning at Beruna." Reepicheep's attention was focused on Caspian, not on the other four monarchs, whom he had not spared a glance.

Caspian's look was thoughtful. "Is there any chance of ambushing the patrols south of here? We're expecting Prince Corin to be leading the first group of reinforcements up from Archenland some time within the next two days. If we could clear a path for them, they could reach us that much sooner."

"My mice and I will endeavor to discover a way, immediately, Sire!" Reepicheep vowed, bowing deeply.

Lucy, who had been watching the exchange avidly, finally couldn't hold her tongue anymore as she leaned over to Susan. "Oh my gosh, he is so cute!" she whispered softly.

Unfortunately, Reepicheep's keen ears picked up the whispered comment. "Who said that?" he roared, full of indignation as he yanked out his tiny sword and whirled around, looking for the offender, before his eyes came to rest on Lucy.

"Oh! Sorry," Lucy replied, sheepishly.

Reepicheep's eyes narrowed, but before he could do anything else, Caspian broke in, his voice full of amusement that he didn't bother to conceal. "Reepicheep, may I introduce you to Her Royal Majesty, Queen Lucy?"

Reepicheep nearly fell over in surprise as he grasped what Caspian had said. "Queen Lucy the Valiant?" He quickly sheathed his sword and bowed humbly to Lucy. "Your Royal Majesty, forgive me for drawing my weapon on you. It was most improper of me and I beg your forgiveness most humbly."

Lucy bit her lip to stifle a laugh, shooting a glare at her brothers and sister, who were having almost as much difficulty restraining their amusement, before she knelt down and gently touched Reepicheep's shoulder. "Please, rise, Reepicheep. I took no offense." As the Mouse straightened up, looking at her with awe and admiration, she gestured to Susan. "Reepicheep, this is my sister, Queen Susan the Gentle."

Reepicheep bowed again, but he kept his eyes on the older Queen, rising when Susan indicated. Lucy gently indicated that Reepicheep should turn to face behind him again, and when the Mouse did so, the young Queen continued. "These are my brothers, King Edmund the Just and High King Peter the Magnificent."

This time, Reepicheep almost threw himself face down on the ground at Peter's feet, so reverent was his bow. Peter shook his head, sending an amused glance his siblings before speaking softly to the Mouse. "Please, rise." As Reepicheep did so, Peter smiled at him. "I appreciate your dedication to our cause, noble friend, and I know Caspian, Aislynn, and my siblings do as well." Nods all around met that statement.

"Thank you for your report on the situation. It will be most helpful as we begin planning the campaign to take back what has been stolen from us."

"It is my honor, your High Majesty, and if there is aught else that I may do, know that I am at your command, day or night!" the valiant Mouse replied. Bowing again, he backed out of the room, Trufflehunter following him after bowing to the monarchs, the Badger shaking his head at Reepicheep's audacity.

The gathered group waited until they were certain that Reepicheep would be out of earshot before they all broke down in a fit of giggles.

Edmund managed to get hold of himself first, and wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, he looked at Caspian and Aislynn. "That was certainly…unique."

Caspian nodded, controlling his own laughter. "Reepicheep is quite loyal, and quite fierce, despite his size. His attitude makes it easy to forget that he is as small as he is. I met him when we were trying to escape Trufflehunter's house. A Telmarine patrol spotted us and as we were running, they were suddenly cut down without warning from something among the ferns and undergrowth. When I turned to go back after the last Telmarine, Reepicheep killed him first, and then leaped out from under cover and knocked me to the ground, he hit me so hard."

Fresh snorts of laughter were heard as that image passed through everyone's minds. "What did you do?" Susan asked.

"My sword was knocked out of my hand when I hit the ground, and he stood on top of me, grabbed his sword and pointed it at my face and told me 'Choose your last words carefully, Telmarine!'" Caspian replied. "All I could think to say was that he was a mouse. His response was a sigh and 'I was hoping for something a little more original. Pick up your sword.'"

More laughter followed that statement. Caspian continued. "When I refused, he demanded that I pick it up because he wouldn't fight an unarmed man. I pointed out that I would live longer if I didn't fight him, and he only replied, 'I said I wouldn't fight you. I didn't say I'd let you live!' Fortunately, Trufflehunter stopped him from killing me outright."

There was a final fit of giggles from the two Queens at that, before that got hold of themselves again. The levity had been much appreciated after the seriousness of the last few days, and they all sobered, knowing that further danger still lay ahead of them, and that they would need to be well-rested for the days ahead.

Peter took charge of the situation. "I think that would be an appropriate moment to call it a night. We'll all need to be rested so we can begin planning come morning. There are sentries posted, so we'll be alerted if something goes wrong in the middle of the night." He stepped over to his sisters and kissed them gently on their foreheads. "Good night, girls."

They returned Peter's kiss as Edmund stepped over and also bid his sisters a good night and pleasant dreams. With that, the two Queens followed Aislynn out of the room that Caspian and the two Kings would be sharing, and headed for their own bedrolls.

***********************************************************************

"_Mother? May I ask you something?"_ _Eight-year-0ld Aislynn hurried up to her mother as dinner ended and her mother began heading back to their own quarters. She matched her mother's pace easily, despite her shorter legs._

_Krisalyn looked down at her daughter, a warm smile on her face. Although she seemed tired, and moved slowly that night, her eyes were still full of love for the child at her side. Aislynn was all that she had left, after all, and Krisalyn wouldn't trade her daughter for anything. "Of course, precious. What did you want to know?"_

"_Why don't I have a father?" The question was innocent, the lupine-shaded eyes open and doe-like, but the words themselves brought a sharp jolt of long buried pain through Krisalyn's chest. She quickly closed her eyes and turned away from her daughter. "Aislynn, please don't ask me that."_

"_I just want to know, mother. All the other children have fathers. Cor and Corin have a father…why don't I?"_

_Krisalyn bit back the harsh reply she almost made. She had never raised her voice in anger to her daughter before and she didn't intend to start now. Aislynn didn't understand; her question we purely curiosity about a difference between her and the rest of her friends. "Wait until we get to our rooms, sweetheart, and then I'll explain."_

_Aislynn didn't know why her mother wanted to wait to answer the question, but she was obedient and fell silent as they traversed the elegant hallways towards the suite that they shared. She knew from her mother's tone that her question had upset her mother in some way, but she didn't know why._

_For as long as Aislynn could remember, it had been her and her mother. She watched her friends with their fathers, but never really feeling the lack herself. The concept of "father" was just a foreign idea to her, one that she rarely dwelt on. She had her mother, and that was all she needed. But lately, watching her friends, she had begun to wonder why all of her friends had fathers and she didn't. What was different about her?_

_When they reached their own door, Krisalyn pushed it open, escorting her daughter inside. She closed and locked the door behind them, indicating that she did not want them disturbed. Then, taking Aislynn's hand, she led the little girl over to a couch in the middle of the sitting room and sat down with her._

"_You do…did… have a father, Aislynn. All children have fathers," Krisalyn said quietly, fighting hard to hold back her own emotions and give her daughter the answer that she was looking for._

"_Where is he?" the logical follow-up question came immediately. "Why have I never seen him before?"_

_Krisalyn took a deep breath and forced her emotions back. "Your father died before you were born, Aislynn. That's why he hasn't been here. He died just after I told him that you were going to be born."_

"_Oh." The little girl fell silent for a moment, thinking about this new information. "What was he like?"_

"_He…your father…he was a good man, Aislynn. He was handsome, and brave. He loved everyone, and he took his responsibilities very seriously. I loved him dearly. His death hurt me deeply. That's why I don't talk about him. It's too painful of a subject." Krisalyn closed her eyes against the rush of tears that threatened. She wasn't ashamed to cry, but Peter's loss was her own pain to bear. She looked down at her daughter. "Aislynn, promise me you won't ask about this again. It's too hard for me to talk about. Your father was the most magnificent person I've ever known…and he would be so proud of you. That's all you need to know."_

_The little girl looked up at her mother, trustingly. "I promise, mother."_

Aislynn's eyes opened, coming awake all at once, as was her habit. She blinked several times before sitting up on her pallet, quietly, so as not to disturb the two Queens who slept nearby.

The day had been full of too many revelations and surprises to count, from the arrival of the Kings and Queens, to the surprising tidbit of news that King Peter had dropped about his wife…Aislynn shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Her mind kept latching on to that tiny detail, and she had no doubt that it was what had inspired the dream/memory she'd just had.

She sighed softly, glancing over at the sleeping Queens. After a moment, she rose to her feet, shoving her feet into her sturdy leather shoes and picking up a blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders to ward off the chill in the caves. Checking to make sure she hadn't woken the two Queens, she moved quietly out of the small chamber.

Once she reached the main passage, she paused, wondering where the best place to go to think would be. While she tended to favor the outdoors when she needed to be alone, for some reason, the passage leading down to the Stone Table was beckoning to her. Few of the Narnians went down there, considering it too sacred of a place for them to disturb. She could be guaranteed privacy down there, and all the torches would probably make it the warmest place in the How at the moment.

Realizing that she had made up her mind, she turned and headed down the passageway that led to the Stone Table. She paused before entering the chamber, a sense of awe and reverence washing over her as she entered, as it did every time she stepped inside this room. There was something…she shook her head. The Narnians considered this their most sacred place, because of Aslan's victory here forty years ago, but in those forty years, the Stone Table had not lost even a fraction of the power and magnificence that it had likely held when it was on the surface. The decision made by the Narnian Council to bury the Table in order to protect it was a wise one, she felt, and having it hidden in this way did nothing to lower the significance of this place in the eyes of the Narnians.

Aislynn hesitated for a moment, before walking around the Stone Table and sitting on the steps on the far side so that she faced the relief of Aslan that was carved into the wall. Her mother had raised her to have faith in Aslan and his power, and sitting here with the relief in front of her…it almost felt like she was actually sitting at the great Lion's feet while she worked out her feelings.

Leaning back against the edge of the Table, Aislynn let out a deep sigh. She was quiet for a few minutes as she put her thoughts in order, before she began speaking softly, not addressing anyone in particular, but speaking just to sort through the thoughts that had been racing through her mind ever since that afternoon.

"Some part of me always wanted to know who my father was," she mused. "Even when my mother wouldn't speak of it, and no one else seemed to want to discuss the topic with me, I think some part of me always wanted to know, even though I had accepted what my mother told me about my father being a good man." She looked up at the relief, wondering for a moment if it was just the firelight that made the carved eyes of the relief seem real, or if it was just her imagination.

"Now…I meet these Kings and Queens…they seem to be everything that I had ever heard about them, and I've only known them for half a day. I feel…drawn to them in some way. I was starting to think it was just because we were sort of close in age, even though I am older than any of them…but now…King Peter's words…"

She trailed off and shook her head. "It just doesn't make sense! If my mother really is King Peter's wife, why did she tell me that he was dead? Why would he have abandoned her before I was born? Why wouldn't he acknowledge me as his daughter?" She huffed a breath. "That's ridiculous…even I know the answer to that one. He disappeared before I was born, he probably doesn't even realize who I am. Why should he make a connection between me and a child that he never met?"

She closed her eyes. "But it still doesn't make sense! I'm twenty-five years old, my mother is fifty-six, and my father is barely sixteen? There's no way it can possibly be true! King Peter must have been referring to a different Krisalyn! It's the only thing that makes sense!" She opened her eyes and regarded the relief again. "But…then why do I _want_ King Peter to be my father? Is it because of what my mother told me all those years ago, about my father being a good man…a magnificent man? King Peter's title is "the Magnificent"…maybe that's all it is?"

"It's not." A quiet voice broke the stillness of the room as Aislynn allowed her question to trail off into the silence. Aislynn jumped and spun around, looking towards the entrance of the room to see Queen Lucy standing there, also wrapped in a blanket to ward off the chill.

Aislynn quickly rose to her feet and curtsied to the youngest Queen. Lucy entered the room and smiled at Aislynn. "You need not curtsey to me, Aislynn. I would like us to be friends…since we're already so much more."

Lucy took a seat on the smooth steps and indicated that Aislynn should resume her place. As Aislynn settled herself next to the Queen, Lucy looked at her frankly. "I didn't mean to startle you. I've been hoping for a chance to talk to you all afternoon, and when I heard you get up and leave, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity."

Aislynn shook her head. "Don't apologize, Queen Lucy. I just wasn't expecting anyone else to come down here, and it is I who should apologize for waking you."

"You didn't," Lucy replied. "I was already awake. I envy Susan sometimes. She can sleep through almost anything, but my mind is too active for me to fall asleep easily sometimes. Given everything we've learned today, it's not surprising I couldn't sleep. As for coming down here…I was here the night that Aslan was killed on the Table, and I was here when the Deep Magic brought him back the next morning. I've always found this to be a peaceful place. I didn't get many opportunities to come here during our reign, but whenever we were nearby, I always came here, just to revel in the peace and remember Aslan's triumph."

The two girls sat in silence for several minutes before Aislynn finally broached the quiet. "Queen Lucy…what did you mean? You said…we're already more than friends…I don't' understand."

Lucy smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. "First, let me ask you…and please, answer honestly this time…is your mother's name Krisalyn?"

Aislynn hesitated again, but finally nodded. "Yes."

Lucy nodded, her suspicions confirmed. "Aislynn…Peter _is_ your father. Edmund, Susan, and I are your aunts and uncle. We're a family. That's what I meant when I said we were more than friends."

"But it doesn't make sense!" Aislynn exclaimed. "The High King is only sixteen! I'm twenty-five, and my mother is fifty-six!"

Lucy sighed. "That…was an unfortunate side effect of our disappearance," the young Queen replied. When Aislynn shot her a confused look, Lucy sighed again. She tried to decide how she could explain it so that the older girl would accept the explanation. "How much do you know about our lives before we became Kings and Queens of Narnia?

Aislynn frowned, not sure where the youngest Queen was going with that question. "Well, I know what Narnian history says, that you were the rulers of the land of Spare Oom until Aslan called you to serve Narnia."

Lucy shook her head. "Unfortunately, Narnian history is wrong." She regarded the older girl with a serious expression. "Before we entered Narnia, we were four regular, normal children…not royalty at all, and not destined to be royal. We never lived in a land called Spare Oom."

Aislynn's frown deepened. "I don't understand," she admitted. "What does this have to do with King Peter being my father?"

"Everything," Lucy replied. "We lived in another world…we call it Earth. Specifically we lived in the city of Finchley, in the country of England. There was a great war going on between our country and many other countries. For our safety, we were evacuated out of the city and into the countryside. While we were there, we discovered the doorway that led to Narnia…a wardrobe inside a spare room in the house we were staying in. We came to Narnia, defeated the White Witch, and ruled as Kings and Queens.

"Your mother was the niece of King Lune…and, at the time we first met her, she was the heir to the Archenland throne, because she was the oldest child of King Lune's younger brother. This was before King Lune married Adele and had Cor and Corin."

Aislynn looked surprised at that. "She always called Cor and Corin her cousins…I never thought to ask her why, since she'd been doing it as long as I can remember. But she was the crown princess?"

Lucy nodded. "She and Peter met during the fifth year of our rule, when she and King Lune came up to celebrate the anniversary of our coronation. It actually wasn't love at first sight, like you might expect. They saw each other two or three more times over the course of that year, and when we went to Archenland to celebrate Christmas, Peter had decided to ask your mother to marry him. They were married six months later."

Aislynn looked thoughtful. "My mother never told me any of this," she admitted. "She always said that talking about my father was too painful…but she did tell me that he was dead, that he had died before I was born."

"He didn't die," Lucy replied softly, squashing down an irrational anger that rose at the thought of Aislynn having gone through her whole life not knowing who she really was (the heir to the Narnian throne), or who her parents really were. She didn't know why Krisalyn would have felt that she couldn't talk about Peter, but it wasn't important right now. "Peter loves your mother very much, Aislynn. He never stopped worrying about her, or missing her."

"But why wasn't he around when I was growing up?" Aislynn replied. "Where was he? If he cared so much…"

Lucy sighed. "We ruled for nine more years after your mother married Peter," she answered. She hesitated, wondering if she should mention the son that had been lost, before finally deciding that it wasn't something that needed to be discussed now. That was something that Peter and Krisalyn needed to discuss with Aislynn. It wasn't Lucy's place.

"In our fifteenth year of rule, word came that the White Stag had been seen running through the Western Woods. Your parents were both twenty-two when they married, and they were both thirty-one at this point. We decided to go on a hunting trip, to try to capture the White Stag. The morning we departed, just before we left Cair Paravel, your mother told Peter that she was pregnant with you, but she insisted that Peter come with us so that we could have some time together as siblings. The previous months had been somewhat chaotic. Peter had just returned from a campaign against the giants in Ettinsmoor, and Susan, Edmund, and I had just returned from Calormen and Archenland."

Lucy shook her head. _Chaotic_ was too mild a word for those last few months in Narnia. Between the (predictable) assault by the giants, and the incident involving Rabadash and Susan…they had all been ready for a break. "We tracked the Stag to the Western Woods, and while we were there, we accidently discovered the passage back to England…back to the world we had come from originally."

Aislynn's confused look cleared up. "You went back to your original home?"

Lucy nodded. "We stepped back through the wardrobe into the spare room of the house…only to discover that there was a difference in the way that time moves. While fifteen years had passed for us here, no time at all had passed in England." Aislynn raised a skeptical eyebrow at that. "We suddenly found ourselves children again, back at the same moment we had left…the only difference was that we still retained all the knowledge and memories of the things we had learned in Narnia.

"Peter was horrified at being back, especially when he realized that the passage through the wardrobe had sealed itself behind us, and we couldn't get back to Narnia. For us, we've only been gone for four months, but when we came back and learned that it has been twenty-five years…" Lucy finished.

Aislynn was silent as she considered the story that the youngest Queen had just told her. She had to admit, as extraordinary as it was, it did go a long way towards explaining what had happened…why the four of them had simply vanished, why Aislynn had grown up without a father, and why, now that he had come back, Peter was younger than his daughter. She looked at the youngest Queen – her aunt – she suddenly realized. She was looking at a member of her family. Her family had suddenly grown from her and her mother to now include a father, two aunts, and an uncle.

"How did you know I was his daughter, Queen…Aunt Lucy?" Aislynn asked, before pausing and thinking over what she had just said. _Aunt Lucy_…it had a nice ring to it. Given the smile that erupted on the young Queen's face, she obviously liked the sound of it too.

"You look a little bit like both of your parents," Lucy replied. "Your eyes aren't exactly blue like Peter's, but they aren't exactly the same violet as your mother's either. Your hair does look like your mother's, and you're tall like Peter was when he was older." Lucy shook her head. "That seems odd to say, but it's true. Your age also was a strong indicator, although it wasn't the only thing." The younger girl smiled and shrugged. "You might just call it instinct, and when you told me your mother's name was Serena…I could tell from your tone of voice that you weren't telling me the whole truth, and your face when Peter mentioned his wife's name was Krisalyn…"

Aislynn nodded thoughtfully. She could see how the clues had added up for Lucy. She looked at her aunt and sighed, the smile fading from her face as she thought about the situation. "What do I do now? I want to talk to him. I want to know what he thinks about me. Does he know who I am?"

Lucy shook her head. "No, I don't think so. If he had figured it out, I don't think anything would have stopped him from acknowledging it." She regarded her niece thoughtfully for a moment. "He was very, very worried about you and your mother. It's all that he's been talking about for the past four months."

"I want to tell him. I want him to know who I am…I want to get to know my father," Aislynn said after she considered what Lucy had said.

Lucy hesitated, not quite sure how the older girl would take what she was about to say, but she was hoping that she would understand. "I don't think that would be a good idea right now, Aislynn." Before her niece could say anything in protest, she held up her hand and continued. "I know my brother very well, Aislynn. I know how tempting it must be to want to tell him everything, but Peter is the type of person who needs to keep his focus on one thing."

Aislynn frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."

"When we were ruling, Peter was able to keep track of many different, minor situations easily, but for more important matters, like a battle campaign, or his family, he always does his best when he's focused on one thing. He's been worried about your mother for four months. The only thing that's shaken some of that worry from him was transferring the worry to helping our people now. Right now, we need to keep his attention on that. If he gets distracted, things could go very badly. As much as I hate to say it, finding out that his daughter is here, alive and well…it would distract him badly. Even more, he has a tendency to be very overprotective of the people he loves. He'll feel like he needs to make up for everything that he has missed in your life, and that will be the only thing he'll be thinking about," Lucy explained.

Aislynn sighed. "I see. What do you suggest?"

Lucy smiled encouragingly. "Don't tell him yet, no matter how tempting it may be. Let him get through this campaign, and help us counter the Telmarines. When everything here is settled and done with, his attention will turn back to your mother, and that will be the time to tell him. Just the fact that you're alive and you can tell him about your mother will go a long way towards easing some of his worry and fear…but right now we have to keep his attention on the campaign."

"I guess that makes sense," Aislynn replied. "But…he's my father. I want to get to know him."

Lucy nodded. "You will. I'll make sure of it, even if I have to physically drag him away from the battlefield to get him to listen long enough while you talk to him. As soon as you tell him, you'll have his complete attention. In the meantime, I'm here and I'll tell you anything that you want to know."

Aislynn smiled at the offer and blinked back tears that were suddenly threatening to spill over. "Thank you…Aunt Lucy." She leaned down unexpectedly and embraced this aunt that she had just discovered. Lucy stiffened in surprise for a moment, before returning the hug willingly. The two girls sat on the steps leading up to the broken Table, sharing the embrace and their love…the love of one girl who had just discovered family she had never known she'd had…and the love of another girl who had known her family was out there, but whom she had never met.

**_Don't forget to read and review!!!!!_**


	16. Chapter 15: Departures

_**Author's Note: Hey everyone! Here's another chapter for you. This one gave me so many problems! I owe huge thanks to **Gwenneth** for helping me with the interogation scene. I was very close to scrapping that whole scene and then she talked me through another way of approaching it and it snapped into place. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and with luck the next one will be out within the week! Don't forget to review, I live off of them these days!**_

_**Chapter Fifteen: Departures**_

_Archenland, south and west of Stormness Head…_

They had been riding since before dawn, and it was only now midmorning. Corin rode at the head of his small scout force. _Well, small by the Archenland army's count_, he thought, twisting in his saddle to see the line of twenty-five men who rode behind him, eyes darting around to make sure no danger threatened, just as they had been trained, even though they were still in friendly lands.

To look at Cor and Corin, an observer wouldn't expect them to be acquainted with the quieter, stealthy ways of the Archenland scout force. But after the scouts saved the two princes' lives a few years before the Telmarines had first invaded Narnia, they had decided, mutually, that at least one of them should be familiar with the way the scouts operated so they would be better able to work them into their campaign plans. Since Cor was so busy learning the duties and responsibilities of being a prince and a king, they had decided that Corin would be the one who would work with the scouts.

Learning from the scouts had been very interesting and Corin had found that he actually enjoyed it, to the point that when they needed to send a small advance group ahead of the main army, he almost always rode with them. Today, he had a larger than normal scout force, because as they crossed into Narnia, he had planned to station his men out at intervals to wait for Cor and the rest of the army. Their jobs would be to see to it that the path that was scouted out remained clear and free of the Telmarine patrols, so that the rest of the army didn't get bottlenecked on their trip up to the How. As the army passed each of the scouts he would station, they would join Cor's forces to finish the trip up to the How.

According to the information that Krisalyn had provided, the pass was just south of where Glasswater Creek began in the mountains, before it flowed northeast through the southern reaches of Narnia until it reached the sea. Krisalyn was certain the pass was large enough to bring the army through, but just in case she was in error, they had to reach the pass as soon as possible, so that if it wouldn't allow the whole army to pass through, he would have time to send one of the scouts back with word so that Cor would know that they needed to take the main pass which lay two days ride to the west.

A frown crossed Corin's face as he thought about their departure that morning. He hadn't expected it to be much different from other departures of past campaigns, but this time it had been decidedly different.

"_We'll depart the day after tomorrow," Cor said, looking remarkably alert, considering that it was still two hours before dawn. Corin had always felt a bit of envy towards his brother for his ability to be awake and alert at such unearthly hours, but for Cor, it was a habit that had been enforced his whole life. The man who had raised him had been a fisherman, who always set out before dawn, when the fish were biting. Back then, when Cor had been known as Shasta, if Arsheesh was awake, he was awake as well._

"_With luck, we should reach the pass by sunset today, and we'll know if it can support the rest of the army," Corin agreed as he tied his saddlebags to the back of his horse's saddle. "I'll send a messenger back if you need to take the army through the main pass, but if no messenger comes, you can go ahead and bring the army after us. I'll station my scouts along the safe path, and I'll leave markers to guide you to each sentry."_

_Cor nodded. It was a good plan, and one that would make the best use of their resources, while still allowing them to cover ground quickly and efficiently. "Then Aslan's blessings be upon you brother. I'll see you in a few days."_

_Corin nodded and placed his foot in the stirrup in preparation to mount._

"_Wait! Corin, wait!"_

_Corin paused and looked towards the main doors of the palace at the call. Coming out of the palace, a bundle in her arms, was Krisalyn. She was wearing a heavy wool dress to ward off the chill of the pre-dawn morning, with a wool cloak thrown over her shoulders. She hurried down the stairs as quickly as she was able and drew to a halt next to Corin, pausing to catch her breath._

"_Kris? What is it, dearest cousin?" Corin asked, releasing the saddle and putting his foot safely back on the ground._

"_When you see P…the ones who claim to be Narnia's monarchs, you will test them, won't you?" Krisalyn asked, her intense eyes staring up at her younger cousin._

"_Of course," Corin replied, confused as to why she had run all the way out here in the pre-dawn hours just to ask him something that they had decided on the night before. After all, if these children who claimed to be Narnia's monarchs were imposters, they would need to be removed so as not to do anything to harm Narnia. Cor and Corin were returning to Narnia, not just to defend her from the Telmarines, but from any threats that might have risen from the twenty-five year subjugation that her people had been under._

_Krisalyn took a deep breath. "If it turns out that…that they __**are**__ the Kings and Queens…give them these," she finished softly, handing the bundle she carried over to Corin. He took it and unwrapped it from it's protective cloth, to see a wide, deep chest in his arms. He frowned, not recognizing it, but he opened it._

_His eyes widened as he realized what he held. Inside, resting neatly on soft cushions of velvet and down feathers were four glistening crowns, two silver, two gold. He looked up at Krisalyn. "Cousin, are you sure about this?"_

_Krisalyn nodded. "I'm positive. It will be a sign to them that they have not been forgotten."_

_Corin hesitated. "If they should ask where these crowns came from, or how they came to be in my possession, should I tell them that you sent them?"_

"_NO!"_

_The vehement exclamation startled him so much that he almost dropped the chest that held the crowns. His horse, normally steady and calm, rolled his eyes and half-reared. Cor grabbed for the stallion's reins and held them, calming the horse with gentle words. He and Cor looked swiftly over at Krisalyn, not understanding her reaction. She was wide-eyed and actually – for the first time that Corin could ever recall – looked frightened._

_Krisalyn seemed to realize that she had startled the King and the Prince, and she quickly took a breath and brought some composure back to her features. "Please, don't tell them anything about me, Corin…especially not that I am coming up with Cor. __If it is P...Peter, he and I have a great deal to discuss...__, and I don't want him to have time to think up excuses if he knows that I am coming."_

_Corin exchanged a look with his brother, who only nodded, taking the chest and slipping it into one of Corin's saddlebags as Corin mounted. Corin turned from on top of his horse and looked down at his cousin. "I promise, Krisalyn. I won't say anything to the monarchs, if it is they."_

_Krisalyn smiled at him, but it was a sad smile, full of pain. "Thank you," she whispered. "This is something that I have to do on my own."_

"_We'll meet you at the How, brother," Cor said quietly, reaching up to grasp his brother's arm as he finished securing the crowns inside the saddlebag._

_Corin reached down and took his brother's arm. "We'll be waiting." With that, he straightened in his saddle and looked to where the rest of the scouts were waiting patiently. Urging his horse forward, he gave them the signal, and suddenly, they were on the move, their horses restless and eager to obey as they streamed out of the palace courtyard._

Corin shifted in his saddle again as he thought about the job he had been tasked with. Somehow, he would have to find proof that would confirm or refute these children's claim that they were the long-missing Kings and Queens of Narnia…and he needed to do it soon, so that he would have time to get word to Cor. His brother was only permitting Krisalyn to come along on this trip because of the possibility that she might have a chance to settle the issues between her husband and herself.

If it wasn't Peter waiting at the How, however, Cor would send her back to Archenland with an armed escort. Queen of Narnia she may be, however, she was still under Cor's protection, and he would not bring her to a battlefield without a damn good reason. There was no point in risking Narnia's last remaining monarch. It was bad enough that the one heir to the Narnian throne was already in danger, although she had accepted the job Cor had placed to her willingly, trusting in Aslan and her own skills to succeed.

Corin sighed. That was not the important matter at the moment, however. He still had two days to decide what he would do to test the claim. Right now, he needed to focus his attention on getting himself and his men safely to the How, and scouting out a safe route for his brother and the rest of the army.

***********************************************************************

_Aslan's How…_

"King Peter! King Edmund! Prince Caspian!"

The three royals spun around at the shout, to see one of the Faun sentries running towards them. They hurried through the forges towards the sentry, who paused and waited for them to reach him. He was breathing heavily and Peter siezed his shoulder gently. "Catch your breath, good Faun, before you give us the news you carry."

The Faun shook his head and managed to gasp out his message. "T-telmarine scout…spotted him…sentry point."

Peter's eyes widened and he reflexively reached for Rhindon, only to stop as he remembered that his sword was not slung at his hip. "Where?"

"C-coming this way," the Faun panted. "On horseback. Should be here…matter of minutes."

Peter turned slightly and met the fiery gaze of his younger brother, and, beyond him, the equally fiery gaze of Caspian. "I do believe we need to do something about this," Peter said thoughtfully.

"I concur," Edmund said. Peter smothered a grin at the wicked enthusiasm he could hear in his younger brother's voice. Edmund turned to Caspian. "Where can we get weapons?" Edmund, normally calm and even-tempered, obviously intended to do a little damage to the people who had invaded Narnia and destroyed what they remembered of their country.

Caspian nodded and led them towards a rack filled with all different sizes of swords. Long blades, similar to Rhindon, caught Peter's eye and he quickly took one, before reaching for a rack of shields and taking one that was the appropriate size and weight for him. Edmund meanwhile, had gone to the rack of shorter swords and appropriated two of those for himself.

Caspian, interestingly enough, passed by the swords in favor of a bow and a quiver of dark-fletched arrows. Peter raised an eyebrow at him, but Caspian only shrugged and shouldered the quiver. After a moment, Caspian also reached for a long coil of rope, which he hooked neatly to his belt. The prince glanced around, noted that they were all armed, and nodded, before leading the way towards the entrance. Peter and Edmund fell into step behind him, and all three of them quickly exited the How.

The Faun who had brought the message had returned to his post and when Peter looked up at him, he pointed off towards the west. Peter nodded, thanking him and indicating to his companions what direction they needed to go. Caspian indicated that he should take the lead, and Peter quickly veered off, leading Edmund and the prince toward the tree line. He wasn't sure exactly where the scout was, so he wanted to come in from an angle.

As they reached the trees, Peter dropped into a crouching stalk and waved Caspian forward. Dropping his voice to a hiss, Peter turned to the prince. "I want to try to take him alive," he whispered. "He's a source of information."

Caspian and Edmund both nodded. Peter thought for a moment, and then gestured to Edmund. Edmund understood immediately and eeled off into the brush, moving south-west. Edmund would flank the scout from the north, but he needed to move further south before circling around behind him. Peter was intending to flank the scout from the other side, which left Caspian in place to have the clearest line of sight available if it came to the prince needed to draw his bow on the scout.

A low whistle pierced the quiet, and Peter replied with one of his own. The whistle was the signal from Edmund that he was in place, a tactic they had developed with Oreius when the centaur general had been teaching them scouting maneuvers. From where Peter was concealed, he could see Caspian, but Edmund was well hidden. Now, all that was left was to wait.

Fortunately, they didn't have to wait for very long. Within moments of getting settled and concealed, Peter heard the sound of a horse approaching at a walk. The animal's breaths and the nearly-silent footsteps alerted him and he signaled to Caspian to be ready.

The scout moved right past Peter's position, as well as past Caspian's. The prince had an arrow drawn and nocked to his bow, although the bow was not drawn. Not yet. The scout dismounted as he approached the clearing, and tethered the horse's reins loosely to a branch. Dropping low, the Telmarine moved to the edge of the tree line, gazing out onto the field and the How. He stood there for several minutes, watching, before he turned and began making his way back to where his horse stood waiting.

_Wait…wait…_Peter thought to himself. He was going to need to take the man by surprise. If he moved too early, the scout would have a chance to draw his own weapon, and if he moved too late, the scout would make it to his horse, and it would be up to Caspian to take him out. Given that Peter had yet to see the prince in battle, he didn't want this venture to rely entirely on Caspian.

He waited, until the scout drew abreast of Peter's hiding place. Then, the young King moved, leaping from his hiding place and moving with the speed of a striking snake. He was on top of the older man before the scout had time to register the movement in the brush, and Peter's arms were around the soldier and bringing him to the ground.

Unfortunately, the man was not only strong and fit, but canny. It didn't take him long to get over the surprise and before they hit the forest floor, the man was bucking and kicking, trying to dislodge Peter. An elbow snapped back and caught the High King in the mouth, splitting his lower lip as he involuntarily bit down on his lip at the impact.

The coppery taste of blood filled Peter's mouth, but he ignored it as best he could and continued to try to wrestle the Telmarine to the ground. Unfortunately, the man was not only taller than Peter, he outweighed him by quite a bit, and with a sharp twist and another thrown elbow, the scout succeeded in throwing Peter off of him and lunging to his feet towards his horse.

Before Peter could get his legs back under him, the man was in the saddle and yanking on the reins to turn the handsome stallion. Peter swore softly to himself as he scrambled to get back to his feet. He knew Edmund was waiting to ambush the man again, but with the scout on horseback, it would be more difficult for them to take him out.

He needn't have worried though. Just before the horse got up to speed, an arrow flew from behind Peter and impacted the soldier in his arm, rocking him and almost making him lose his balance. A second arrow followed the first. this time hitting the scout's leg. The double impact of the pain, as well as the impact themselves, knocked the Telmarine from his horse and he crashed to the forest floor.

Peter lunged and this time, too wounded to put up a fight, the scout submitted, just as Edmund arrived on the scene to help Peter pin the man down. Caspian was right behind them, another arrow knocked to the bow, although he had not drawn the weapon.

As they got the man pinned, Edmund made sure Caspian had him covered with his bow before he glanced at his brother. "You all right there, Peter?" Concern hovered in those dark eyes as he reached for his brother's face, his thumb gently wiping a smear of blood from Peter's chin.

"'M fine, Ed," Peter assured him as Caspian tossed him the coil of rope from his belt. Peter quickly unwound it and began wrapping it around the scout, tying his hands behind his back. Between the three of them, they got the scout restrained, and hauled him back to the How's entrance so they could question him.

Susan, Lucy, and Aislynn were waiting at the ramp, apparently having gotten word of where they had gone, since they evidenced no surprise at seeing them returning with a prisoner. Peter did see looks of concern cross their faces as they took in the sight of his bloody mouth, but they chose not to comment on it. Peter was grateful for that, but he knew his sisters would most likely have a great deal to say on the matter as soon as they were alone. It wouldn't do for the Narnians – or their captive – to hear the two Queens berating the High King in public.

Peter turned his attention back to their captive, forcing him to sit on the ground. He was not about to let the man inside the How, nor take any chances on him escaping, so he quickly used more of the rope to tie the man's feet together, before stepping back out of the range of a kick. Once that was done, he stepped over to the ladies, a calculated action, designed to give their prisoner a good look around. As he quietly greeted his sisters and Aislynn, he was watching the man out of the corner of his eye, although to a casual observer, it would appear that he was paying the man no mind.

It didn't take a man of exceeding brilliance to realize that the scout was extremely nervous to be around all the Narnians. His eyes were wide, filled with caution and not a little fear as he took in the Dwarves, Centaurs, Fauns, Satyrs, and various Talking Animals that had come to see what was going on, although he seemed most nervous around the great Cats and the Wolves. He watched them all carefully as they moved about, talking in low tones, occasionally sending glares, growls, or muttered threats in his direction.

Lucy touched Peter's arm, drawing his attention back to his sisters, Edmund, Caspian, and Aislynn. The High King smiled at his little sister as she handed him a handkerchief, gesturing for him to put pressure on his split lip, which was still bleeding slightly. "Are you all right, Peter?" she asked softly, keeping her voice low so as not to draw the attention of their prisoner. "That looks like it hurts."

Peter shook his head. "I'm fine, Lucy. He got in a lucky blow. It'll be healed in a few days, and it'll close up by the end of the day." He huffed out a breath as the cut stung. "It's just as well that Oreius wasn't there. He would have been mortified that the man got the drop on me like that. I didn't quite have him under control when I took him down, and he managed to break loose. It's a good thing Caspian is such a good shot, or we would have lost him."

The prince waved off the compliment. "I should have shot sooner, but I didn't want to hit you, King Peter," he responded.

"Well, I should certainly hope not, Caspian," Peter replied with a short laugh, wincing a bit as the cut on his lip pulled. He glanced back over his shoulder at the prisoner, who was still watching the Narnians warily. "Do you by any chance know that man? I would like some leverage before we begin questioning him. Given our current…_situation_…I'm afraid that we're not going to be very intimidating. We need something to shake him up."

Caspian frowned and glanced at the man, studying him for a moment, his brow wrinkled in thought. After a moment, his expression cleared and he nodded. "I do. His name is Larez…he's the head of the scouts under General Glozelle."

"What do you know about him?" Edmund asked.

"Not much, I'm afraid," Caspian admitted. "I didn't have much contact with him, other than occasionally seeing him meeting with General Glozelle. I know that he is considered a good soldier, and a good leader, but that's all I know."

Peter looked thoughtful. "It might not be a lot, but I think it can work to our advantage." He looked over at Caspian. "Do you think you can take the lead on this one, Caspian? Ed and I have a strategy that has worked before, but we need to get him responding to something else, before we spring the questions on him."

Caspian looked uneasy. "I can certainly try, King Peter. But, given that I am not familiar with the man, he may not respond."

Peter patted him on the arm. "I have confidence in you, Caspian." He eyed the prisoner again. "Go on. Act demanding, and intimidating."

"That is not something I've had a great deal of practice in," Caspian muttered, before straightening his shoulders and holding his head high. He fixed a cool, haughty expression on his face, before spinning on his heel and striding over to the prisoner, drawing the older man's attention. He stopped just out of range of a kick and stared down at the scout for a long moment. "Commander Larez."

The scout stared at Caspian for a moment, before a smile crossed his features. It was not a smile of welcome, Caspian noted, but a smile that was full of mockery. "Caspian."

Caspian's eyes narrowed at the insult. "I would remind you to address me by my title, _Commander_. I am the Crown Prince of Narnia."

"Oh, forgive me, _Your Highness_," the soldier replied immediately, his tone even more condescending. "I was not aware that it was proper protocol to address a traitor by an undeserved title."

Caspian's face took on a dangerous expression. "You would do well to watch your tongue. As you have no doubt noticed, my allies would be all too pleased to exact some vengeance for the persecution they have suffered, should I permit them to do so."

The not-so-veiled threat had Larez pausing and looking uneasily at the Narnians. Several of the Black Dwarves and the Minotaurs moved closer, their hands drifting towards their weapons. Caspian rocked back on his heels, assuming a more relaxed posture, although he didn't lower his gaze. "I intend to ask you some questions, and you would do well to answer them swiftly and truthfully."

Larez looked back at Caspian, a sneer crossing his face. "I have no intention of betraying my fellows and my country the way _you_ have, _sire_."

Caspian's dark eyes smoldered. He stared at Larez for a long moment, before he turned and looked back at Peter and Edmund. Peter took it as indication that the prince wasn't getting anywhere with their prisoner, so he gestured for Edmund to join him. Together the two Kings strode over to where Caspian was waiting, their appearance only earning a snort of disdain from their prisoner.

"Commander Larez is being singularly unhelpful, Your Majesty," Caspian said respectfully. "Perhaps you would like to make an attempt at convincing him? Or should I ask Asterius to assist us?"

Edmund shook his head and waved the suggestion off. "That won't be necessary, Caspian. Thank you." The younger King cocked his head to the side and studied their prisoner intently for a long moment. Finally, he broke the silence. "Know you who we are?"

Larez's eyes narrowed, expecting a trap. "Children not even old enough to join the army."

Peter gave him a cool look. "That may be, but it was a couple of _children_ who took you prisoner, _Commander_."

Larez fixed a resolute look on his face. "My allegiance is to the rightful King of Narnia…not to a traitor and a rebel. _His Highness_ has betrayed our people, and thus lost my allegiance and my respect. Ask what you will, I'll tell you nothing."

Peter's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he stepped forward, kneeling down to bring himself eye level with the scout commander. "Then by rights, you should be telling my brother and I everything you know." His tone was even and calm, but there was a note that warned the scout not to trifle with them.

"And why is that?" Larez retorted.

"My brother and I _are_ the rightful Kings of Narnia," Peter replied evenly. "We were chosen by Aslan himself, crowned by him, and named Narnia's champions and her defenders. It is in _our_ power to decide who has the authority in Narnia, and only Aslan has the power to overrule our decisions. Lord Miraz has not been granted any authority."

Larez stared at Peter for a long moment, before he began laughing uproariously, as if Peter had just said something hysterically funny. The laughter drew snarls and growls from many of the Narnians, but the scout didn't even seem to notice, despite how unnerved he had been just a short time before.

Peter glanced at his brother, who shrugged subtly. It was obvious to both of them that they were not going to get any information out of Larez. As much as Peter didn't want this man seeing the inside of the How, there was no place outside to secure him safely. Rising to his feet, Peter gestured towards a Centaur and a Minotaur, who came over immediately.

"Search him thoroughly for weapons that we might have missed, then take him to one of the lowest storage rooms and see to it that he firmly tied, and make sure a guard is posted at all times inside the room with him," Peter ordered. There were no doors on any of the cavern-like storage rooms, so a guard was necessary to make sure the man wouldn't be able to slip out in the night when everyone was asleep except the sentries. He wanted to take no chances with this man. A man didn't rise to the position of scout commander without having more than one trick up his sleeve.

The two Narnians nodded and bowed, before hauling the prisoner to his feet and dragging him towards the entrance to the How. Peter, Edmund, and Caspian watched him go, before moving over to where Susan, Lucy, and Aislynn were standing. As they approached, Peter caught sight of an odd expression on Aislynn's face. It seemed to be a mingled expression of wistfulness and joy, with a hint of resolve in her lupine-shaded eyes. He paused for a moment, studying her face intently, as she stared back at him until she realized how closely he was watching her and turned a bright crimson.

"Oh! Your Majesty…I'm sorry! I didn't mean to stare!"

Peter blinked and quickly waved off her apology. "No, Lady Aislynn, the fault was mine. I was being unaccountably rude to watch you in that fashion." He looked between his siblings, Caspian, and Aislynn. "Well, I don't think that there is much more that we can accomplish here, so I suggest that we all resume our tasks from before the excitement." Indeed, all of the other Narnians were beginning to disband and return to what they had been doing before word spread about the prisoner that the Kings and Prince Caspian were bringing in. Offering his arm to Susan, he smiled as she looped her arm through his, restraining a chuckle as Edmund offered his arm to Lucy, leaving Caspian to escort Aislynn back inside the How.

***********************************************************************

_Anvard…two days later…_

"Krisalyn, good cousin, this is absolutely foolish!"

Krisalyn strode down the hallway towards the courtyard where the rest of the Archenland army had been assembled to march to liberate Narnia. Striding along beside her were Cor and several members of the Narnian Council who had smuggled her to safety when the Telmarines first invaded.

"Cor, I am not going to change my mind. I ran from Narnia once before, and I am not going to do it again. My people have been without leadership for too long." The elegant Queen replied firmly, not even glancing at her cousin as she made her way down the corridor.

"Krisalyn, this is going to be a battlefield, and you are not going to be able to fight or lead the army," Cor protested. "I can take charge of your people long enough to get them through the battle, and then you can return when it is safe. That way one of Narnia's monarchs will still survive."

"No, Cor. It is not in me to hide. I was wrong to hide here for as long as I have, I should have stayed and fought during the first invasion." She fell silent for a moment before her eyes closed in pain. "That's what Peter would have done."

Cor shook his head in frustration. He had learned long ago that his cousin easily held the title of the most stubborn person he had ever met, including his twin brother. He glanced over at the Narnian Council who had fled Cair Paravel with their Queen in order to protect her when word had come that the Telmarines had not been stopped.

"If I may, Your Majesty, I believe that King Cor is correct," the tall black Centaur pacing beside them stated solemnly. "I do not question your ability to defend yourself, should the need arise, but you should not risk yourself unnecessarily."

"Oreius, you have served Narnia, and myself, well, and you know I hold your advice in high regard, but this time I must stand firm in my decision." Krisalyn met the eyes of the Centaur general, one of her dearest friends and confidants squarely. "I am going."

Oreius sighed and tuned the conversation out as Cor continued to try to persuade Krisalyn to change her mind. He would, of course, be going with his Queen in order to protect her, as he had ever since King Peter had proposed marriage and she had accepted. That was his job as the head of Narnia's army and the Royal Family's Honor Guard.

But this plan for his Queen to ride with the Archenland army to a campaign to liberate Narnia was madness. If she stayed here and they failed, at least one of Narnia's monarchs would be safe…and he would be able to devote all of his strength to rescuing Princess Aislynn and returning her to safety. He had failed once…a failure that still haunted him every time he thought about his beloved homeland…and the monarchs he had been unable to protect.

_The ground flashed under his hooves as he galloped, praying to Aslan for the strength and endurance to reach Cair Paravel ahead of the Telmarine invaders. His wounds ached, and he knew he was losing blood. He should stop long enough to rebind his wounds, which he had hastily bound once he was off the battlefield. but the urgency and the safety of those at the Cair drove him on._

_The battle had been a disaster from the beginning, and the blame rested solely on his shoulders. When word had first reached Cair Paravel of the invasion, he had mustered the army, leaving behind just enough troops to defend the palace and the Queen, Princess, and Council if things went poorly. He had, after all, sworn an oath to Aslan, and then again to the four monarchs when he took the rank of general in the army. His first responsibility was to the Royal Family. He was the head of their guard, and even though the four monarchs had been gone for five years, he held his duty of highest importance, turning his attentions to protecting the last Queen of Narnia - High King Peter's wife - and his beautiful daughter Aislynn._

_The army had marched out from Cair Paravel and had met the invaders at what should have been a strategically sound battlefield for the defenders. A day's march north and west of Beruna, the wide clearing sloped upward to a gentle, yet, tall rise, that gave a commanding view of the entire area._

_Unfortunately, the Telmarine army was much larger than the Narnian army, and Oreius had not accounted for the accuracy and range of the siege weapons, nor the crossbows, which, although slower to fire, were much more powerful than the Narnian bows. All of these elements combined together to turn what should have been a glorious victory for the Narnians into a retreat, followed by a rout that had what remained of the army scattering for cover, and had led to Oreius pouring every ounce of strength he possessed into his weary legs as he tried to reach the Cair as soon as possible._

_The Telmarines were moving much faster than anyone could have predicted, and Oreius guessed that if they continued at the same pace they had been, they would reach the Cair within two days and place it under siege. He needed to get there as fast as he could in order to get the Council and the Queen and Princess out before that happened. The Telmarines took no prisoners…they had slaughtered the Narnians without hesitation, and if they discovered that Narnia's Queen was trapped inside the palace…Oreius truly feared what lengths they would go to in order to reach her. Two days seemed like a long time, but he wanted her safely out of the way of the invaders long before they reached Cair Paravel._

_He burst out of the forest and he could see the great palace sitting on the cliff side, a shining jewel in the setting sun…the seat of Narnia's power and government. His legs were aching fiercely, and he felt weaker with each passing minute from blood loss, exhaustion, and the pain of his wounds, but he was so close now. __**Please, Aslan…just a little further. Give me the strength.**_

_Some minutes later he pounded up the causeway leading to the gates of the castle. The sentries on duty saw him coming and had ordered the gates opened and the Queen and Council summoned. Oreius willed one last burst of strength into his legs as he charged into the courtyard, the dusty ground turning to hard-packed cobblestones beneath his hooves. He braced himself as he slid to a stop at the foot of the steps leading up to the palace doors. He bent over, chest heaving and the rest of him trembling from the exertion as he gasped for breath._

_Queen Krisalyn was standing at the top of the steps, her five-year old daughter Aislynn held in her arms. She hurried down the steps, the rest of the Council right behind her. "General! What is it? What's happened?"_

_Oreius couldn't get words out for several moments. The exhaustion was beginning to overtake him, but he had to get the news out so they could make preparations to leave as soon as possible. "B-battle was l-lost, M-majesty. The Tel-telmarines are on their w-way." He raised his eyes to meet the concerned gaze of Faun Tumnus, who was, other than himself, one of Krisalyn's most trusted advisors. "We-we must p-prepare to l-leave. Two days…" He felt himself blacking out as the pain of his wounds and the blood loss finally overtook him._

Oreius remembered those days all too well. He had come back to consciousness to find himself being conveyed as an invalid as the Council fled Cair Paravel with Krisalyn and Aislynn. They had made the evacuation plans before he left with the army, just in case, and everyone had known what to do. The Council had fled that same night, taking only the most crucial things with them. All the other treasures and documents had been hidden in the underground treasure chamber, the massive hidden door shoved into place to conceal it from the Telmarines.

They had traveled fast and secretly, avoiding all of the other Narnians. Cruel as it seemed, Oreius had been determined to keep the location of the Queen and Princess secret. If word had reached the Telmarines before she was safe…

"_Oreius, I like this not," Tumnus whispered quietly as they looked down on the main pass into Archenland from atop the knoll. It was the night of moon dark, which was the only reason that Oreius had been willing to risk this scouting expedition. He truly did not like being away from the side of his Queen, but as the only soldier among them, it fell to him to clear a safe path._

_Evacuation plans had been laid before Oreius had gone off with the army, and it had been decided then that if Queen, Princess and Council needed to flee, it would be only they who would make the journey. Safer though it would be to bring the Queen's Honor Guard along, having that many people in the party would make it more risky, and they would be more likely to be discovered if the invaders sent scouts out. _

_Fortunately, Oreius had insisted that all of the Council learn to defend themselves and their monarchs years ago and had been training them in those skills for some time. He was quite confident in their skills, and he had no doubt of Queen Krisalyn's skills, as she had been trained in archery, sword-work, and knife-wielding from a young age by order of King Lune when he had named her his heir before her marriage to King Peter. Even though she had given up that title in favor of Cor and Corin when they were born, she had never stopped her weaponry lessons, save for the times when she had been pregnant and it had been deemed to risky to allow her to participate._

_No, Oreius had no doubt that the rest of the party could defend themselves admirably if the need arose, but their safety still gnawed at him. But it was important to know what they faced. Archenland was their safe haven. King Lune and Prince Cor would not refuse them shelter, but they had to get safely over the border first. Hence the scouting mission._

_Oreius knew exactly what it was that Tumnus didn't like. It appeared that the Telmarines were most efficient, for they had already sent men south to secure the main pass through the mountains to the Archenland border. There would be no sneaking past them from this direction._

"_Lion's Mane!" Oreius swore softly. "I was afraid of this. We shall have to find another way." He looked at his companion. "We must get the Royal Family to safety."_

"_Agreed," Tumnus replied instantly. He looked steadily at Oreius for a moment. "General, I know that you wanted to keep our flight as secret as possible, but I think we have no further choice. We must ask for assistance."_

_Oreius studied the Faun intently. "What do you suggest?" He was still recuperating from his wounds, and he trusted Tumnus. Whatever the Faun would suggest, it would at least be worth considering. He would consider anything at this point, if it would assist him in getting his Queen and the young Princess to safety._

"_Just to the east of here is a small glade where the Fauns and the Dryads in this area gather for the feasts and festivals during the holiday season," Tumnus replied. "I've been there before, with Queen Susan and Queen Lucy, and I know how to summon them to the glade. If anyone would know of another way over the border, it would be they."_

"_Will it be quiet enough to avoid drawing the attention of the invaders?" Oreius asked._

_Tumnus nodded. "Easily. The glade is almost half a day's walk, at a Human's pace, and very secluded. One of the daughters of the River God lives in Glasswater Creek. The Creek flows through that glade into the Eastern sea, but the Creek starts high in the mountains."_

"_We shall return to the encampment and move out to the glade," Oreius decided. "It is our best chance." Turning, he began descending the knoll swiftly and quietly, so as not to attract attention of the Telmarine scouts._

Tumnus had been correct, and once they had the attention of the River God's daughter, she had been more than willing to escort Narnia's last Queen and her Council to the pass they had used to enter Archenland, since Glasswater Creek ran down the mountain parallel to the pass, and emerged from the mountains just east of the pass.

Now, they were going to use that same pass to re-enter Narnia in secret and return to Aslan's How…and eventually, Cair Paravel. They had waited for word to come from Corin about whether or not the pass would allow the army to reach Narnia safely, but no messenger had come, and per the arrangements made by Corin and his brother, that meant that the pass was safe enough.

_It's time_, Oreius thought to himself as they stepped out into the courtyard where the rest of the army was assembled and waiting for their leaders. _It's time to reclaim Narnia and drive the Telmarines out. If Her Majesty is so determined to ride to the battle, I will stand beside her, as I pledged to High King Peter that day at the Beruna, to the death._

**Please, please, please, read and review!**


	17. Chapter 16: Identities Disclosed

**_Author's Note: Another chapter everyone, as a special treat for you! Tomorrow is my birthday, so I decided to post this now, and with any luck, I may have another chapter out in a few days, depending on how things go. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think! Oh...btw...the quotes that the Pevensies (except for Lucy) use in this are not mine. Susan's quote was slightly modified from one by Dwight D. Eisenhower, Edmund's is modified from a quote belonging to Alexander Solzhenitsyn, and Peter's - beginning with "there is no love like the love" comes from Astrid Alauda. All of these people lived during WW2, so I imagined that it was feasable that the Pevensies might have heard them before. I might be wrong however...*shrug*_**

_**Chapter Sixteen: Identities Disclosed**_

_Aslan's How…_

"Your Majesties!" a Faun came hurrying up to where Peter, Edmund, and Caspian were discussing an idea that Caspian had come up with after working in the caverns for the past two days.

Since the capture of the scout, Larez, nothing unusual had happened, and as far as they were able to determine, the How remained undiscovered. Reepicheep was keeping them appraised of the Telmarines' movements, but they were steadily drawing closer to the How, and none of the monarchs believed that the How would remain undiscovered for much longer. Larez was being treated kindly, but he was firmly under guard, never left alone for a single moment.

"Yes?" Peter asked, turning from his conversation with his brother and the prince and focusing his attention on the messenger. "What news do you bring?"

"The Hawks that are on the patrol in the woods south of here have reported in, Majesty. They bring news that a small patrol of men bearing the colors of Archenland are less than an hour's ride from the How."

Peter felt a smile creeping over his face. _Corin! Finally!_ he thought in relief. The waiting, wondering when they would be discovered was starting to grate on everyone's nerves. With Corin's party having arrived, they would hopefully bring news of Cor's intentions, as well as more men to help drive the Telmarines out. Now they could begin making plans in earnest to take the fight to the Telmarines. Thus far, all they'd been able to do was make plans to defend the How.

"I would request that you notify the Queens and Lady Aislynn," Peter responded out loud. "Inform them that King Edmund, Prince Caspian, and I will be waiting for them at the entrance ramp."

The messenger bowed. "I shall, Sire." When Peter nodded to dismiss him, he hurried off, deeper into the How in search of Susan, Lucy, and Aislynn. Peter turned to his companions. "Shall we?"

Edmund and Caspian both nodded in agreement, and the three of them headed towards the How's main entrance, moving through the caves and out into the main chamber where the forges were set up and the Dwarves were still busy using the rest of their supplies to make weapons and armor for the army. They threaded their way carefully through the chamber and reached the main entrance, taking the time to check their appearances while they waited for the ladies.

"It will be good to see Corin again," Edmund commented. Peter nodded in agreement. Prince Corin and Edmund had been good friends before they were sent back to England. Corin had looked up to the youngest King, and Edmund had been ever so patient about helping him learn the duties of a Prince and King. When Cor had been found, Edmund had taken the older Prince under his wing as well, and the three of them had had quite the friendship. Peter didn't know them quite as well, since he had been kept busy with other duties, but he had helped to instruct both princes in swordplay and archery when his time allowed.

Before his train of thought could go much further, he was distracted by the arrival of Susan, Lucy, and Aislynn. The three women hurried up to where Peter and the other two were waiting, and after several moments while the girls checked each others' appearances, they headed up and out of the How together.

The late afternoon sun poured down into the clearing and the wind was blowing gently, stirring the grass and the trees as they arranged themselves to greet the new arrivals. They quickly arranged themselves in their accustomed order, with Edmund and Lucy flanking Peter and Susan. Caspian and Aislynn stood off to the side, with Caspian standing just ahead of Aislynn. Word had begun to spread and the Narnians began gathering as well. Glenstorm, Asterius, Nikabrik, Trumpkin, and Trufflehunter all gathered close together behind Caspian and Aislynn, while the other Narnians took to the various ledges of the hill, or clustered on either side of the entrance ramp.

It was only a few minutes before the party from Archenland could be seen approaching on horseback. They were moving furtively and quietly, displaying no bright colors or open standards of their country, other than their uniforms which were done in a deep blue and grey in place of the normal sapphire and silver. Riding at the head of the part was a young man in his mid to late thirties, astride a handsome chocolate brown gelding. Behind him rode fifteen other men, all of whom were on the alert, hands drifting near their weapons, ready for a quick draw in case of an attack, eyes scanning their surroundings intently.

The party rode up to the How and stopped a short distance away from where Peter and his siblings waited. The man leading the party studied them for a moment before he dismounted with ease. Reaching for his waist, he unbuckled his sword belt and draped it over his saddle, leaving him armed with only a short dagger. It was a sign of trust, because that little dagger, even in the hands of a trained fighter, would not do much good against the weaponry sported by the Narnians.

He signaled to one of the other men to hold his horse, before he strode up to where the four Pevensies were waiting. He paused again, before giving a short, polite bow. Not one of equals, but one that signified cautious respect. Peter nodded in response, studying the scout that had approached him. The man did resemble Corin, although he was obviously much older than he had been when they had last seen him. This was a warrior, through and through, and a Prince, one who was comfortable with his rank and responsibilities, which was much different from the Corin that Peter remembered.

"Welcome, Prince Corin," Peter began, keeping his facial expression welcoming without being overly friendly. These types of meetings were always interesting. There was a subtle dance of formality and politeness that had to mingle with the welcoming words and gestures. "On behalf of myself and my royal siblings, Aslan's blessings be upon you and yours. We are most pleased to see you and your men. Your arrival is quite timely."

Corin nodded, his own face impassive. "I thank you." He paused for a moment before he continued. "I come as advance scout for my brother, King Cor and the Archenland army with fifteen of my own scouts. We have come to aid Narnia in driving out the invading Telmarines."

"We thank you," Susan replied softly. "Your aid is most appreciated."

Corin shifted slightly and caught sight of Aislynn standing behind Caspian. He nodded to her, acknowledging her and Caspian with the gesture. "My royal brother's messenger has undoubtedly told you of our intentions?"

"She has," Lucy inserted. "Her assistance has been greatly appreciated, as has the news that she brings of our allies."

Corin suddenly dropped all the pretenses. "You will forgive me, if I take this opportunity to verify the information that I have received from the Lady Aislynn." He reached into a pouch at his waist and extracted a tightly rolled scroll. "This letter indicated that you claim to be Narnia's Kings and Queens, returned after twenty-five years of absence."

Edmund nodded. "We are. Circumstances beyond our control caused our long absence and our unexpected return when my royal sister's horn was sounded by Prince Caspian this week past."

Corin nodded. "For my own satisfaction, as well as that of my royal brother, in whose name and authority I am now acting, will you permit me to verify your claim?"

It was an interesting question, and a slight challenge, Peter knew. If they said no, and insisted that Corin simply accept their claim, they would only earn his suspicion, and they might lose the support of Archenland. If they said yes, however, and for some reason could not convince him of their claim, they would lose his support, and might be inviting an attack if his people believed them to be imposters.

"Ask what you will," Peter replied easily. "We have nothing to hide from our long-time allies."

His acceptance of the challenge was the first piece of evidence that Corin was seeking, and it was obvious that he had not expected them to agree so readily. However, he was prepared and the surprise at Peter's quick agreement was fleeting. He turned to Lucy and studied her for a long moment. She met his gaze openly, her dark eyes patient as she waited for him to test her claim.

"When I was last in Narnia, we discussed the meaning of faith," Corin said abruptly. "You told me something and told me that I should never forget it. What was it?"

Lucy remembered that conversation clearly. Cor had just been discovered after coming to warn King Lune about the impending attack on Anvard, and Corin had sought her out to ask her advice about how things would be changing now that he was no longer the Crown Prince, and during the conversation the topic had changed to the importance of faith in the lives of monarchs and ordinary folk.

"Have faith in yourself, in Aslan, and your people, and they will never let you down," Lucy replied promptly. "Faith – true faith – does not change with the seasons or the tides. It is constant and dependable, and always there, and if you hold tightly to it, it will always reward you during your darkest hours."

Corin nodded slowly. That was exactly what she had told him, among other things, but that was the one thing that she told him that he always needed to remember about faith and using it in his life. "That is correct…Queen Lucy." He bowed more deeply to her as a sign of respect, which she returned, with a bright smile on her face. As he rose from the bow, he turned to Queen Susan.

"My father asked you to help Cor and I to understand that a King's duty does not always lie in the sword and the battlefield," he said after a moment of studying her. "Cor asked you a question about what qualities a monarch should have. Do you remember how you answered him?"

Susan nodded. "I do." She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. "I told him that there was a saying that I once heard in Spare Oom. 'The qualities of a great man are vision, integrity, courage, understanding, the power of articulation, and profundity of character," she replied. "If a monarch has those things, and knows how to use them properly, he or she will be a great leader."

Corin studied the Gentle Queen for a moment before he nodded. "Correct…Queen Susan." He bowed to her, just as he had for her sister, and reached out to take her hand, kissing the back of it gently, which made the older Queen blush prettily. He turned and faced King Edmund.

"I asked you once to tell me how you understood what true justice was and how to know that you were following the call of justice and not your own desires."

Edmund nodded immediately. "Justice, true justice is not a personal conscience but the conscience of the whole. Those who clearly recognize the voice of their own conscience usually recognize also the voice of justice. When that voice is heard and recognized…the call of justice will always be answered."

Corin blinked and was quiet for several moments, before he acknowledged that the Just King was telling the truth. "That is exactly what you told me, King Edmund," he said quietly, although the hush over all the Narnians made it easy for everyone to hear his words. He bowed, which Edmund returned, before turning to Peter.

At this point, everyone knew that this was just a formality, because if Corin was convinced that the other three monarchs were who they said they were, all they had to do was say that Peter was their brother and everyone would know they were telling the truth. Any lingering doubts that might have been in the minds of the Narnians had been dispelled. Their Kings and Queens had returned to them.

Corin took a deep breath before asking the final question of the High King, mostly for formality's sake. "When Cor and I were reunited, you gave us some advice about what it meant to be a brother."

Peter didn't hesitate. "Being a brother is like having someone who will always support you unconditionally, even if you don't always agree…because you won't. But more than anything, the love between you will always bind you, because there's no other love like the love for a brother. There's no other love like the love from a brother."

Corin nodded. "That is exactly what you told me, King Peter…and it is something that we have never forgotten…and for that, I thank you." He bowed, deeply now, acknowledging not just High King Peter, but all four siblings, before he stepped forward and clasped arms with the two Kings.

Caspian stepped forward a moment later and Corin quickly greeted him in a similar fashion, knowing there would be more time to get to know the young Telmarine prince. At first glance, the Archenland prince could tell that Aislynn had been correct in her assessment of Caspian…the younger man was terribly unpolished, much as he and Cor had been when they had begun truly taking on the duties of Princes of Archenland. But he had a great deal of potential. Corin could see it in the way he carried himself, in the look in his eye, in his attitude towards the Narnians.

"Your Majesties," Corin said quietly as he and Caspian parted. "Before we begin making our plans, I have something that I was instructed to give you, if it turned out that you passed my tests."

All four Pevensies turned towards the Crown Prince, and he stepped back over to his horse and reached into his saddlebags, extracting the wrapped chest that he had been given before he had left Anvard. Unwrapping it, he indicated that one of his men should follow him, and the scout dismounted immediately and stepped forward, taking the chest when Corin handed it to him and holding it steady.

Corin reached into the chest and extracted the first crown from it's velvet-lined and cushioned spot. He carried it over to Lucy and gently placed the silver crown, wrought in the shape of a wreath of laurel and yarrow flowers. He raised an eyebrow at her, and when she nodded and bent her head, he gently settled the crown into its proper place.

Turning back to the chest, he reached back in and extracted the next crown – this one made of gold, and made to resemble a wreath of daffodils and mountain ash leaves. He turned to Queen Susan, who also bent her head and allowed him to place the crown delicately on her dark locks.

Edmund's silver crown and Peter's golden one quickly followed, settling into their proper places, before Corin stepped back and closed the chest. "It is good to see those back in their proper places," he finished quietly.

All four monarchs looked dumbstruck for just a moment, before Peter turned to him, an intense, passionate expression in his midnight blue eyes. "Where did you get these?" he demanded softly. "How did they come to be in your possession?"

Corin hesitated for a moment. He still hadn't come up with an answer that he believed to be satisfactory, but it was too late to think about it now. "When it first became apparent that Cair Paravel was going to be overrun, the most important treasures were sent to my brother for safe-keeping, rather than being placed in one of the treasure rooms at the palace," he replied. "When Lady Aislynn's letter told of your return, Cor believed that it was time those crowns were returned to their proper owners, so he asked me to bring them with me."

The look in Peter's eye didn't fade. "Corin…I must know…do you know anything about the whereabouts of my wife? Where is Queen Krisalyn? Is she well?"

Again, Corin hesitated. Krisalyn had not wanted him to say anything about her imminent return to Narnia, believing that she needed to speak to Peter without giving him a chance to prepare explanations or excuses for his twenty-five year abandonment. "The last news I had of her, King Peter, was that she was well." It was difficult not to look away from the intense gaze of the High King as he spoke, but somehow, Corin managed it.

Peter stared at him for another long moment, before he sighed and slumped in relief. "She is well," he whispered softly, as his siblings gathered around him, offering him their support. "She is well." he repeated.

"We knew she had to be, Peter," Lucy offered quietly. "We'll get through this, and then we'll help you find her."

The others nodded in agreement, and Peter nodded, accepting the comfort and the support that they were offering him. He kept his light head bowed for another few moments, his blonde locks mingling with the darker ones of his siblings, before he looked up and met Corin's eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice somewhat hoarse and choked. "I've been so worried about her."

Corin nodded stiffly, not sure how to respond to that without giving anything away. He glanced over at Aislynn, who was sending an equally intense look at him. "Your Majesties, I am sure that we have a great deal to discuss prior to my brother's and the rest of the army's arrival, but I would beg your indulgence in a few minutes for me to see to my horse and my men, as well as the opportunity to speak to Lady Aislynn in private before we begin our discussions."

Peter had straightened and resumed the air of a controlled, authoritative High King. "Of course, Prince Corin. Lady Aislynn will show you to the Stone Table when you have had the opportunity to speak with her. The Narnians will be happy to show your men where they may leave their horses and bed down."

Corin sketched a half-bow of agreement. "I thank you, King Peter."

***********************************************************************

"We can talk in here," Aislynn said quietly, leading Corin into a small chamber off one of the myriad tunnels that branched off of the main chamber of the How. She had stayed by his side as he and his men saw to their beasts, before Glenstorm's wife had led the Archenland scouts off to find bedding and food.

Corin checked to make sure that there was no one around listening in to the conversation, before he turned to Aislynn. "Aislynn, I –" he began, only to be cut off as the young woman flung her arms around him and kissed him soundly on the cheek, before breaking off and murmuring, "Greetings, cousin," under her breath.

Corin stood there, struck dumb by the abnormal greeting. He and Aislynn had been friends for a long time, despite the twelve-year difference in their ages, but she had never been so demonstrative with him, mostly because of the perceived difference in their ranks. But it wasn't even the hug and the kiss that caught him off guard as much as it was her words. _Cousin? She's never called me that before…how…why?_

He looked at her closely and saw the understanding in her eyes. Somehow, she had learned who she really was – the daughter of High King Peter and Queen Krisalyn, and the only heir to the Narnian throne at Cair Paravel. "Aislynn?" he asked cautiously.

"I know the truth, Corin," she replied, calmly, if a trifle flatly. "Queen Lucy put the pieces together and told me the truth three days ago. I know who my mother truly is, I know the identity - and name - of my father, and I know who I am."

Corin swallowed nervously. This was not what he had been hoping to find out. He knew there were reasons why Krisalyn had chosen not to inform her daughter of the truth, and while he and Cor had not agreed with them, they knew that their cousin had the right to raise her daughter the way she chose, so they had kept silent. "Does King Peter know?"

Aislynn shook her head. "No. Only Queen Lucy knows. She believes that it is for the best if the others don't find out until this campaign is over, so they can keep their focus on Narnia. It is hard, because I want to get to know my family…but I agreed to keep silent for the time being." She fixed him with a piercing, intense stare, so like her mother's…_and her father's, come to think of it_, a small portion of Corin's mind observed. "What I want to know is why? Why wasn't I told?"

"I would like to know the answer to that question as well."

Corin twisted on his heels at the sound of the quiet question, to see Queen Lucy standing in the doorway, looking at him pointedly. He revised his earlier thought. _All four of the Narnian monarchs share that intense look_. He had forgotten that…it had been twenty-five years since he had last seen it, after all. Apparently, Aislynn was more like her father, aunts, and uncle than they had remembered.

"Don't worry about the others," Lucy said quietly. "They are taking care of some arrangements for the rest of the army that your brother is going to be bringing up. They have no reason to suspect that Aislynn is anything more than she claims to be. Their focus is on Narnia's well-being…mine, however, is also on Peter's. It is partially my doing that we inadvertently abandoned Narnia, Krisalyn, and Aislynn, so I've been doing my best to make sure that Peter's mind stays where it needs to be."

Corin swallowed and nodded as Lucy stepped further into the room and moved next to her niece. They made such a lovely picture, with the torchlight throwing it's shadows on their dark hair…but it was an unusual picture as well, for Aislynn was fifteen years older than her aunt…but Corin remembered Queen Lucy as a tall and graceful woman of twenty-five…which meant that she _should_ be fifty now, by his reckoning. Instead, to see her back to being a ten-year old was…unnerving to say the least.

He looked between the two of them before he spoke. "Aislynn, I want you to understand that it was your mother's wish that Cor, Aravis, and I not say anything to you about your family and your heritage. We didn't agree with your mother's decision, but she had the right to raise you in the way that she felt was best…and not having your father there was extremely difficult for her. We kept silent in order to ease the burden on her in whatever way we could. Your mother was only trying to protect you, in the only way that she knew how."

"How could not telling me the truth protect me?" Aislynn asked.

"Your mother feared that if you knew who you really were – the heir to the Narnian throne – that you would want to come back here and try to win your homeland back before the time was right, and that she would lose you." He looked at her seriously. "Your mother lost so many things, Aislynn…your father not the least of all. It was important to her that she protect you for as long as she could. That was why she saw to it that you received lessons in swordplay, archery, riding, hunting…it was her way of making sure you'd always be able to take care of yourself if something were to happen."

Aislynn held his gaze for several seconds before nodding. Corin let out a breath that he wasn't aware that he had been holding. "Aislynn…whatever happens, don't blame your mother for her choice. It would break her heart."

Aislynn nodded again. "I would never hurt her that way, Corin," she replied softly.

It was Corin's turn to nod. Before he could say anything more, Lucy spoke. "Corin, tell me what happened when the Telmarines invaded. I know that Krisalyn must have been the one who sent our crowns with you."

Corin nodded again. "You are correct, Queen Lucy."

Lucy waved a hand impatiently. "Don't worry about formalities, Corin. You are royalty as well, and we've already given Aislynn and Caspian permission to dispense with our titles."

Corin bowed slightly, acknowledging the permission as he gathered his thoughts. "When it first became apparent that the Telmarines were heading for Cair Paravel, the Narnian army rode out to meet them. Unfortunately, the battle went in favor of the Telmarines. General Oreius barely escaped with his life, and he immediately ran back to Cair Paravel. At his insistence, Krisalyn and the Council gathered up only the items that were most important…Aislynn, the crowns, the gifts that were given to you by Father Christmas, and King Edmund's weapons and armor, along with the most important papers and documents. With just those things, the Council and Krisalyn fled, heading for Anvard."

Lucy frowned. "They didn't stay to try to negotiate with the Telmarines?"

Corin shook his head. "I'm afraid not. General Oreius said he witnessed the Telmarines simply slaughtering the wounded Narnians out of hand. They made no declaration of intention, simply launched an attack when they saw the Narnians blocking their way."

Aislynn frowned. "Why don't I remember any of this?"

Corin shrugged. "I'm not sure, Aislynn. You were only five years old at the time, and they traveled mostly by night, so it is possible that you were asleep for most of the trip." Aislynn considered this for a moment, before acknowledging the point with a nod.

"It took several days for Krisalyn and the Council to make it safely over the border, but once they did, they came straight to Anvard, and they've had sanctuary there ever since," Corin finished. "Aislynn was raised in the Court, and Krisalyn immediately began working with all of us to try to find a way to free Narnia. She also helped Aravis adjust to being Queen when Father died and Cor became King."

Sorrow crossed Lucy's face as she thought about King Lune, who had been a dear friend during their reign. "I'm sorry about your father, Corin…what happened?"

Corin offered her a sad smile. "Age. He went peacefully, in his sleep." They were all quiet for a moment, before he spoke again. "Is there anything else that you would like to know?"

"How did Susan's horn fall into Caspian's hands, if Krisalyn had our gifts?" Lucy asked, still puzzled by that incongruous detail.

Corin smiled. "We've been planning to come and help the Narnians reclaim their Kingdom ever since the initial invasion," he replied. "We were simply waiting for the time that would give us the best chance of success. After a great deal of planning, we decided to send a spy into the Telmarines' royal family. Prince Caspian's tutor is Narnian, although the Telmarines don't realize that."

"Doctor Cornelius is Narnian?" Aislynn asked in surprise. When Lucy and Corin looked at her curiously, she blushed a little bit. "Caspian and I spent a long time talking when I first joined the Narnians. He told me about his tutor and the little he knew about the Narnians."

After a moment, Corin nodded. "Yes, Cornelius is Narnian. His mother was a Black Dwarf, but his father was human. As a result, he easily passes as human, just shorter than most of the Telmarines. When he agreed to go, we gave him Queen Susan's horn. The initial plan was for him to find a way to put himself into the position of an advisor to the Telmar King in some way and slowly convince him that the Narnians meant no harm. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to get that type of a position, but when he was accepted as Prince Caspian's tutor, that was even better, because he was in a position to influence the next Telmarine King right from the very beginning, without having to try to change a lifetime of superstition and mistrust."

Lucy was nodding in agreement. "So the horn was there to provide tangible proof when the time came to reveal himself to Caspian. That was a good plan."

Corin grimaced. "He was sending us regular reports, clandestinely, and we thought that everything was on track for our plan, but things disintegrated quickly after Lord Miraz's son was born. We've only heard from Cornelius once since that happened. He managed to get a message to us explaining that Caspian's life was threatened and why, but he couldn't tell us much more than that. Suspicion immediately came on him when Caspian fled to the woods and encountered the Narnians."

Lucy frowned deeply. "We'll have to rescue him. He's served us well, we cannot abandon him."

Corin nodded in agreement. "That was one of the things that I was intending to discuss with you and your royal siblings before my brother arrives." He turned back to Aislynn. "I'm glad that you're all right 'Lynn. Your mother was worried about you, but she knew you had the best chance of succeeding here."

Aislynn locked her blue-violet eyes on the prince again. "She is well?"

Corin understood what Aislynn was asking and nodded without saying anything. "She knows about your father and your aunts and uncle being here. She saw your letter when Cor and I were planning the route that would bring the army up here."

Aislynn sighed and acknowledged that she understood what Corin was saying. Her mother's condition was no secret to her, and the news about her father…it would have been a huge shock for Krisalyn, who needed very few shocks these days. At least her mother knew that Peter was alive…hopefully that would be enough to raise her spirits and keep her going.

Lucy's eyes narrowed as she looked between her niece and the Archenland Crown Prince. There was something going on…a subtext that they were not sharing with her. Lucy wasn't sure why, but the tension in the tiny room had just increased dramatically, and not in a good way. "Is something wrong with Kris?"

The other two exchanged glances for a long moment before Aislynn looked back at Lucy. "No, Aunt Lucy. My mother is well, but her age is beginning to catch up to her, that's all."

Lucy frowned at that explanation before she blinked, remembering that while Peter had reverted back to a sixteen-year-old when they had returned to England, Krisalyn had continued to live her life normally, which meant aging normally as well. If she had been thirty-one when they left…she would be fifty-six now. Aislynn had mentioned Krisalyn's age, but it was just now sinking in for Lucy.

The youngest Queen's frown deepened. Fifty-six wasn't terribly advanced for a human in good health, and Krisalyn had been in fine health when they had left Narnia…so why would her "advanced" age be causing her difficulties?

"Are you sure, Aislynn?" she asked quietly. "If there is something that you need to talk about, I'll listen. That's what family is for."

Aislynn offered a weak, unconvincing smile. "I'm certain, Aunt Lucy."

Lucy thought about pressing the issue, but a warning look from both Corin and Aislynn stopped the comment before she could form it. Deciding this was not the time to fight a battle, she accepted the answer as gracefully as she could under the circumstances, resolving to keep her attention focused on Aislynn for the next few days. If something _was_ wrong with Krisalyn, Aislynn might very well feel like she needed to talk to someone about it, and Lucy would be ready with a listening ear.

"Shall we join the others, then?" she asked instead. "I'm sure my brothers are most anxious to begin planning this campaign." Corin and Aislynn both agreed, and Lucy led the way down to the Stone Table, where they would be meeting to begin making their plans.

***********************************************************************

_Glasswater Creek Pass…same time…_

Cor shook his head as they moved quietly through the pass, looking at his companions. On his left, Faun Tumnus walked quietly, along with a Black Dwarf named Ratha, and General Oreius. On his right, Krisalyn rode her gentle, dapple-grey palfrey, a gift from Corin two Christmases ago. Krisalyn was wearing a simple grey-blue linen dress with a divided riding skirt, a charcoal-grey hooded cloak thrown over her shoulders, the hood flung back for the moment since it was a beautiful afternoon.

"I wouldn't have believed that this pass has been here all this time and no one knew about it," he commented quietly. "It would have made other trips from Anvard to Cair Paravel so much shorter, if we had known."

Oreius shook his head solemnly. "I believe that we are fortunate that it was not well-known," he corrected gently. "If it had been more obvious, the Telmarines might have found it, and that would have prevented us from reaching Anvard in safety when we left Cair Paravel. Or they might have found it in the last twenty-five years, and set a guard on it, so we couldn't get back through."

Cor considered the centaur's words and conceded with a nod. "You're right," he agreed. "We are indeed fortunate – 0r perhaps blessed by Aslan – that it hadn't been discovered by the Telmarines."

Oreius nodded in agreement. The general had been silent for most of the trip, as was his custom when on the march, but most of his attention had been focused on Krisalyn as she rode beside Cor. The Queen hadn't said a word for the entire trip thus far, and Oreius was concerned for her. It was not like his Queen to be so quiet. While she had never had the exuberance of Queen Lucy, she had always had much more life and energy in her than she had shown over the past few days. Oreius couldn't be sure, but he suspected that the news that High King Peter and his siblings might have returned to Narnia after all this time had thrown her for a bit of a shock. No matter, he would continue to guard and protect her as he always had.

If Oreius could have seen Krisalyn's thoughts, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn that his surmises were correct.

Over the last few days, as they made arrangements to send Corin up to Narnia with an advance group of men, to summon the Archenland army together for the two-day march up to the How, to make all the arrangements for Narnia's Queen and Council to return to their home, Krisalyn had been actively involved in the preparations. She had conceded to most of the things that Cor and Corin had insisted upon, but the one thing that she had refused to back down on was her intention to accompany the army to the How.

Now, however, as they rode north to join Corin and the Narnians at the How, she had become uncharacteristically silent. The news that Peter and his siblings were at the How had caught her completely by surprise. She had given up on them years ago, accepting that they must be dead. It was the only thing that she could think of that would have kept Peter from returning to her…and where Peter went, his siblings followed.

To the outside world, she had given every indication that she had finally given up hope that Narnia's other monarchs could still be alive. But, deep down, in the most secret portion of her heart, buried where it couldn't cause her pain, she had nursed a tiny flame of hope that Peter would not break the oath he had sworn to her – to always return to her and their family. She couldn't bring herself to completely believe that he would break the most important promise that he had ever made to her. The pain of that flame of hope, when combined with the outward acceptance that she had shown to the word, however, had been too painful for her to face on a day-to-day basis, so she had buried it in order to preserve her own mental and emotional stability.

Now, however, that tiny flame of hope was growing steadily stronger. It would no longer be denied, yet she was still trying to keep it suppressed until there was true evidence either way. If she allowed that hope to have complete control now, and it turned out that Aislynn was _wrong_…it would destroy her. She didn't have the strength to deal with such a crushing disappointment – not anymore.

_Laughter rang out from the courtyard of Cair Paravel as the servants hurried about, saddling horses and loading provisions into saddlebags for their monarchs. The sun was pouring down into the courtyard, illuminating the marble stone of the palace as a gentle breeze blew in off the sea._

_Kris stood at the top of the stairs leading into the palace, watching as her husband and his siblings oversaw the final preparations for their hunt. Tumnus had come to Cair Paravel for the monthly Council meeting, and he had brought word with him that the White Stag had been seen running through the Western Woods._

_Edmund had immediately proposed a hunting expedition for the monarchs of Narnia to try their luck at capturing the elusive beast. Peter, Susan, and Lucy had immediately agreed, wanting to spend some time together, since Peter had just returned from dealing with another insurrection involving the Giants in Ettinsmoor. Krisalyn had declined to accompany them, given the child that she was carrying. After what had happened last time, she was taking no chances this time. The healers still didn't know why she had lost the baby the last time, but it wasn't going to happen again. She wouldn't be able to cope if it did._

_When she had told Peter the news just a short time ago, he too had been elated, but then he had planned to stay at Cair Paravel with his siblings. Krisalyn had insisted that he go on the hunt as they had planned, citing that he needed to spend time with the other three. He had been uncertain, but she had assured him that she would be fine for the few days that he would be gone, and that there would be plenty of time to share their news with the kingdom after he returned._

_Down in the courtyard, Peter gave a last tug on the saddle girth of his handsome, black stallion, before he turned and ascended the stairs to where his wife was waiting. Krisalyn smiled at him as he came up to stand in front of her and went willingly into his arms when he reached for her._

_She rested her head against his chest, breathing in the subtle, slightly spicy smell of his clothing as she wrapped her arms around him. They stayed that way for several moments before he reached down and tipped her chin up so he could kiss her gently on the lips. She returned the gentle kiss eagerly, loving the familiar, scratchy sensation of his golden beard on her face._

_As they broke the kiss he lowered his head so that their foreheads touched, and reached up a hand to caress her cheek. "Kris, are you sure that you don't want me to stay with you?"_

_Krisalyn nodded. "I am certain, my lord," she replied, keeping her voice low so their conversation would remain private. "I am only a month and a half along, and you'll only be gone for a week at most. I'll miss you, certainly, but I will be fine."_

_Peter looked at her for several long moments. She still felt a thrill every time he looked at her, and they had been married for nine years. His chiseled features, neat beard, shining golden hair, and piercing blue eyes made for an incredibly handsome package. After several moments, he nodded. "Very well, my lady. I'll go as planned." He leaned down and kissed her again. "Please be careful," he whispered, dropping all formality from his tone and putting a note of sincerity into his voice as he broke the kiss._

"_I promise," she replied, resting her head against his chest again as he tightened his arms around her. They held each other for several more minutes, until Edmund called out to his brother, teasing him about holding them up._

_Peter released her with a final kiss before turning and heading back down the stairs to where a Faun was holding his horse for him. With the ease of long practice, he mounted the stallion and settled himself in the saddle. He gathered the reins in one hand, and raised his other in a gesture of farewell to all the servants and his wife, who raised her hand in farewell too._

"_Come, royal consorts," Peter called, wheeling his stallion and with a nudge and a flip of the reins, the horse was cantering swiftly out of the courtyard gates, his siblings right behind him with laughs and shouts of joy._

_Krisalyn watched them go, standing on the steps until they were out of sight. As they did, an odd feeling settled over her, as it did every time her husband left without her. She fought the feeling back, but it continued to hang over her. She just had a odd sense that this time, Peter wouldn't be coming back._

Krisalyn shook herself free of the memory of the last time she had seen her husband and her King. Her feeling of dread had only increased with each day that they were gone, although she had tried to ignore it and go about business as usual, taking care of the little day-to-day problems that arose while the other monarchs were gone. Court had been postponed until the monarchs returned, since under Aslan's law, only the Four could sit in judgment over the Narnians. Krisalyn's duties as Queen had tended more towards the running of the palace and helping with the little domestic issues that had arisen, although she was trained to rule and sit in judgment if necessary.

It was only after the Four had disappeared that the responsibilities of sitting in judgment and the full burden of ruling had fallen on her shoulders, since she was the last monarch. When Aslan didn't return to give her any further instructions, she had simply shouldered the burden as she had been trained to do.

Unbidden, the memories rose in her mind again.

"_Oreius, I am most concerned," Krisalyn said quietly as the Centaur general stood in front of her, having come at her summons. "It has been over a week since Peter and the others departed for their hunt, and thus far we've received no word from them. Peter promised me that the trip would only last a week, and if they couldn't catch the Stag in that amount of time, they would come home."_

_Oreius nodded gravely, his face, normally passive, showing that he was equally concerned about his Kings and Queens. The four monarchs were normally quite responsible about sending word if their plans would change, but this time they had not. Thus far, no one seemed overly concerned except for the Council and Krisalyn, but they wouldn't be able to keep things quiet for long._

_Krisalyn was quite for several moments as she went through her options. Finally she raised her violet eyes and met the gaze of the General. "General Oreius, I would like you to arrange a search party – quietly. I would like you to lead them yourself, and find High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund, and Queen Lucy, and bring them home."_

_Oreius bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty." As he turned to go, Krisalyn's voice stopped him._

"_Find them, General."_

_Oreius nodded. "I intend to, Your Majesty."_

Oreius had done his very best. He had led the first search party himself, but they had failed to find any trace of Peter and the others, other than their horses and gear. Several more parties had been sent out, but despite all the effort put into the search, no sign of the missing monarchs had ever been found.

_Until now, it seems_, Kris thought to herself. She was having trouble understanding the entire situation. Why would Peter and his siblings, who were so dedicated to Narnia, suddenly abandon their home for twenty-five years, only to unexpectedly return and once again throw themselves into protecting their country and people?

More importantly, at least to Krisalyn, was why Peter would abandon her, especially when he had been so excited at the news that they were going to be parents. He had been cautious about it, given what had happened the last time, but his excitement had been obvious to her. _Why did he have to abandon us?_ Krisalyn thought. It was an old, familiar question, but twenty-five years had not brought any new answers…or any answers at all, actually.

She sighed quietly, which still drew the attention of Cor and Oreius, but when she didn't speak, they went back to their conversation, respecting her right to privacy. They knew her, and they knew that she would speak when she was ready. She knew that they understood her ways by now, and that was fine with her. She wasn't ready to share her thoughts with them. Oreius would be non-committal, but he still maintained a fierce loyalty to Peter, so she wasn't sure which way he would side, especially if it came down to him being forced to choose between Peter, his High King, or Krisalyn, the Queen he had been guarding and protecting for thirty-four years.

On the other hand, she knew that if it came to a confrontation, Cor would side with her. Not only was he family, but he had been incredibly angry when he had heard what had happened…long before she had fled to Anvard and his protection. It wasn't even entirely Peter's betrayal of his wife and child that had made Cor and Corin so angry – part of it was also the betrayal of country, of the people who trusted the Four, and the abandonment of their responsibilities. Krisalyn knew that if it was Peter and his siblings who were waiting for them at the How, it would take a great deal to convince Cor and Corin of their identity and their sincerity.

But that was for later. They were still a day's ride from the How, possibly two, depending on the route that Corin had marked for them. She would worry about what her cousins and the Council would do when they grew closer to the How. Now, she needed to concentrate on her own feelings. She needed to be in control, to smother that tiny flame of hope, so that if things didn't turn out to be what they expected, the disappointment wouldn't destroy her.

But no matter how hard she tried, that tiny little spark wouldn't go out.

_The comfortable, warm surroundings of their rooms were doing a great deal to ease the remainder of the stress that had been caused by Peter's absence. Having him here, where she could see him, touch him, breathe in his unique scent…it was soothing and comforting. His strong arms were wrapped around her, holding her close. The strength and gentleness that she always associated with him were still there, but there was a bit of desperation in his hold this time, telling her that he had missed and needed her as much as she had needed him. His lips pressed against hers were hungrily seeking the same comfort she was looking for from him._

_The last few weeks had been one unending nightmare. First losing their child, then news of the unrest in the north – all the planning meetings, the late nights while they worked out what to do, and finally Peter's departure to take care of the situation. _

"_I'm so glad that you're home safe and uninjured, Peter. I've been so worried," Krisalyn whispered as she leaned against him, resting her head against his chest so she could hear the steady beating of his heart._

_Peter reached down and lifted her chin so he could meet her eyes. "Why were you worried? I had Ed and Oreius watching my back. Nothing was going to happen."_

"_I couldn't help it, Peter," Krisalyn confessed. "We just lost our son…I couldn't bear the thought of losing you too in such a short time."_

_Peter looked down at her, and his next words almost caused her heart to stop. "Krisalyn. You know that I'll _always_ come back to you, don't you? I love you so much. My life has had so much more meaning with you in it. I could never abandon you, or leave you wondering what happened to me. I swear it, Kris. I'll never leave you."_

She closed her eyes and blinked back tears. How many times had those words gone through her mind over the last twenty-five years? How many more times would she have to remember them before she knew for sure what was going on at the How?

She had to stay strong.

Narnia needed her.

_Please, Aslan, give me the strength to get through this,_ she pleaded with the mighty lion, hoping that he could hear her, knowing that she didn't deserve his aid, after her lack of faith.

She would find a way to be strong.

Just a little longer.


	18. Chapter 17: Tactical Offensive

_**Chapter Seventeen: Tactical Offensive**_

Peter looked around the room at everyone who was assembled. His siblings, Corin, Aislynn, and Caspian were all present, as were Glenstorm, Asterius, Nikabrik, Trumpkin, Reepicheep, Pattertwig, and Trufflehunter. He looked up at the carving of Aslan on the wall, again feeling as if those carved eyes were alive and staring down at him. He could only hope that Aslan arrived soon. He had confidence in what they were about to do, but having Aslan here, just like the last time when they'd defeated the Witch, would have been very inspiring and comforting.

He glanced back down at the assembled group and looked at all of them, judging their willingness to begin taking action against the Telmarines. It was time to stop hiding, and time to begin mounting an offensive. It was always better to be on the offensive, because being defensive made it too easy to get yourself backed into a corner and over-run. That was one of the first things that Oreius had taught them, and it was a lesson that Peter had always kept in mind when he and Edmund had worked with the Centaur to plan the campaigns that had kept Narnia safe for fifteen years.

"Now that Prince Corin has joined us and we have definite word on the support that Archenland can provide to us, we need to begin planning how we are going to take the fight to the Telmarines," Peter said to open the meeting.

"We know that they are coming," Caspian protested. "Why don't we wait them out? If we dig in, we'll be able to outlast them."

Peter, Edmund, and Corin all shook their heads simultaneously. "Trying to wait out a siege will only lead to our defeat," Edmund explained. "They'll be able to cut off our supply lines, and just starve us out."

"It's always better to be the attacker than the defender," Corin added. "It's too easy to get yourself backed into a corner when you're defending."

Peter and Edmund shot him surprised looks, since he had almost quoted Oreius word for word, but now wasn't the time or the place to think about it. Peter looked back at Caspian. "We've got several advantages that the Telmarines don't," he explained. "Edmund and I know Narnia very well, and we'll have no problem picking the best battlefield to meet the Telmarines. We also have a wide variety of fighters, and we know how to deploy them to best use their strengths. Those are things that your uncle won't be expecting. If we hit them hard and fast, we can probably drive right up to Cair Paravel and place them under siege before they have a chance to retaliate."

"My brother is also on his way, and he's bringing as many of our men as we can spare," Corin inserted. "If we start attacking now, we could catch them by surprise, and my brother can probably catch up with us right about the time we reach Cair Paravel, so our reinforcements will be ready right when we need them."

They debated that issue for several moments, trying to work out the best way to execute such a plan. Ultimately, they set it aside, deciding that it presented too many challenges to pull off successfully. From the How to Cair Paravel, there were simply too many places where the Telmarines could pull back to and then slip around behind the Narnians and catch them in a pincer movement. The Narnian force was still too small to be that aggressive. If they could somehow decimate the Telmarines first and get them on the run, they might have a chance of pulling it off, but they were still too badly outnumbered.

Peter looked at the maps that were spread out in front of them in frustration. There had to be a feasible way in which their smaller force could take the fight to the Telmarines, without having to wait for Cor. He wasn't opposed to waiting for the Archenland army, but at the same time, he didn't want them trapped in a corner and defeated before Cor could arrive.

If only they knew more about the Telmarine leadership. Larez had already proven that he wouldn't talk, so there was no way to get information out of him without stooping to the level of torture, which Peter was adamant about not doing. Using torture wouldn't convince the Telmarines that the Narnians only wanted peace and wanted their land and their homes back. He glared at the representation of Cair Paravel. The castle had been his home for fifteen years…yet it was too defensible. If the Narnians marched up there and tried to put it under siege, they would lose.

An overt attack was out…but maybe…

"Caspian, you're the rightful heir to the Telmarine throne, correct?"

Caspian looked surprised at the question, but nodded. "Yes. My uncle has been acting as regent until I was of age to take the throne, but before I could, his son was born."

Peter's eyes met his. "Would the Telmarines support you, if we could prove that your uncle tried to kill you?"

Caspian considered the question for a moment, as the others watched Peter and Caspian, listening intently to the conversation. Caspian chewed on his lower lip for a moment before he nodded, slowly. "I believe so, King Peter. It would take a great deal of convincing, and either solid proof or his confession in front of the Council of Lords, but I believe they would."

"Would your uncle be likely to be at Cair Paravel?" Peter asked the next question.

Caspian nodded. "He wouldn't come out to the battlefield until the army feels they have us in a position where we can't win."

Peter's eyes narrowed in satisfaction. **Now** they were getting somewhere! He looked back at the map and studied the layout of the area around Cair Paravel. A workable plan was forming itself in his mind.

Edmund and the others were all watching Peter intently, but when he chose not to elaborate on whatever he was obviously planning, Edmund took matters into his own hands. "Peter, what are you thinking?"

"We know Miraz is the one who is driving this attack on the Narnians," Peter replied absently. "If we need evidence to convince the Council that Caspian isn't a traitor, we probably won't get it. It would come down to Caspian's word against his uncle's."

Edmund nodded, understanding the points that his brother had raised. He was the Just one, and the judge in the family, but Peter had sat in on enough judgments over the years that he understood the law as well as Edmund did. "Go on, Peter," Edmund encouraged him.

"We need to get Miraz to confess to arranging an attempted murder of Caspian, in public," Peter explained. "If Miraz is going to be at Cair Paravel, we can send a small force in to capture him and retake the castle with minimum loss of life. Our best chance is to strike them before they strike us!"

The Narnians present murmured uncertainly at this plan, and Corin, Aislynn, and Caspian looked at Peter as if he had completely lost his mind. Caspian was the first one to speak. "It's impossible! No one has ever taken that castle!"

"Your people did," Corin shot back, immediately.

"We had the tactical advantage!" Caspian said, his temper flaring at being challenged by the older prince. "The Narnians don't!"

Trumpkin glanced between the two quarreling princes. "King Peter's plan will give us the element of surprise."

Glenstorm stamped a hoof on the stone floor, drawing their attention. "King Peter obviously has a plan. I would hear it before we debate whether or not it is possible."

Corin and Caspian fell silent as they turned their attention back to Peter, although Caspian shot a quick glare at the Archenland prince. Peter waited until he had everyone's attention, before he spoke again. "We know from what Reepicheep and his scouts have reported that Miraz's men and war machines are on their way. One of their scouts spotted the How this morning, and was gone before we were in a position to stop him. It is only a matter of time before the Telmarines arrive."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and Peter continued. "Caspian has explained that his uncle doesn't have the authority to call together the entire army, although the troops at the castle are still more than enough to pose a considerable threat to us. But if they are on their way, that means that they _aren't_ protecting Cair Paravel."

More nods.

Peter straightened and looked between his siblings. "Cair Paravel was our home for fifteen years. We know its passageways and entries as no one else does. _We_ can get in, capture Miraz, and get back out quickly and undetected." He could see the same passion and agreement in the eyes of his brother and sisters as he felt. "If we plan this correctly, we can probably take the entire castle at once, and end this with minimum losses. If we can secure Miraz, we can get him to confess, which will put Caspian back in line for the throne and end the war once and for all."

The Narnians looked thoughtful, although Caspian still looked doubtful. "I have lived in that palace my whole life, and I don't think even I could get in undetected," he protested again. "If we dig in and wait, we'll have a chance to get them on the run when they attack, especially if the Archenland reinforcements arrive in time."

"We can't count on that, though," Edmund replied, shooting an apologetic look at Corin. "I know that you cleared the way for them, Corin, but given the size of the force your brother is bringing, there's no way to guarantee that they'll make it in time."

Corin waved off the explanation. "It is true. My brother will move as quickly as possible, but he will have many more men than I did, and they will not be as swift as we were." He looked thoughtful. "How do you plan to get a strike force in?"

"Gryphons," Peter replied instantly. "There are passages everywhere leading into the castle, including from the beach, but I expect that after twenty-five years, the Telmarines will be aware of them and have them guarded. The one thing we don't want is to get bogged down and risk an alarm being sounded."

"How will the gryphons help?" Lucy asked, looking curious.

"The one direction that the Telmarines won't be expecting us from is above," Peter explained. "We'll send in an advance scout, who will signal the rest of the strike force where to come in, based on what he finds. The gryphons will drop the rest of us off, and we'll get the gates open."

He turned to Corin and Glenstorm. "That's where the two of you come in. Once the gates are open, you'll bring the Narnians in to secure the main force of guards that will still be at the castle, while we secure Miraz and the Council."

Glenstorm nodded thoughtfully. "It might work, Your Majesty. It will take careful coordination, and complete willingness from everyone involved, but it has a strong chance of succeeding."

"I for one, feel safer underground," Trufflehunter inserted, showing his support of Caspian. "Our supplies are high, and we have the advantage here."

Caspian nodded. "I agree. This is the best place to make a stand. There's no way that my uncle's men can come up to us without us knowing about it, not with the size of the force he'll need to take us. Our archers will have the high ground and can hit from a distance, and there are plenty of passages out through the caves if things turn against us."

Peter took a deep breath to keep from snapping at the Telmarine. "Look, I appreciate what you've done here," he said, keeping his tone even. "But this isn't a fortress. It's a tomb."

"We know that the Telmarines have war machines," Aislynn spoke for the first time. "They have an even longer range than our archers. All they would have to do is lob rocks at us, and they could probably collapse the How and the caves beneath if they work at it long enough. If they're smart, they'll search the surrounding woods for hidden exits, and barricade those so we can't get supplies in, and starve us out."

"We could gather nuts!" Pattertwig the Squirrel added helpfully.

"Yes! And throw them at the Telmarines!" Reepicheep exclaimed before giving the Squirrel his best _don't be stupid _look. "Shut up." He looked back at Peter. "I think you know where I stand, sire."

Peter looked to Corin, Glenstorm, and Asterius. "Will you be able to handle the guards once we get your troops in?"

All three exchanged long looks, before Glenstorm met Peter's eyes. "Or die trying, my liege."

"That's what I'm worried about."

Everyone looked at Lucy, who was sitting quietly on top of the Stone Table, looking around as she listened to the debate.

"Sorry?" Peter asked, not understanding what she meant. Surely Lucy knew that he would never put them in a position where he would throw away the lives of their allies and subjects on a whim. He knew that she had to understand that they simply couldn't wait to be overrun either.

"You're all acting like there's only two options. Dying here, or dying there."

Peter frowned. "Do you have another plan, Lu?" he asked, not willing to discount her suggestions. While Lucy tended not to fight in battle, she had learned tactics and command at Oreius' side, just like her brothers, and sometimes she saw flaws in their plans that they missed. She had a different way of looking at things, and Peter never ignored her input, because she gave it so rarely, trusting that her brothers and Oreius knew what they were doing.

"You've forgotten one thing in your calculations, Peter. Aslan won't let us stand alone. He may very well have another plan in mind, just as he did at Beruna when we fought the Witch. I think we need to consult him." She raised her hand to stop Peter before he could speak. "You told me that you trusted Aslan and his plan, Peter," she reminded him gently. "His sudden arrival with reinforcements is what turned Beruna in our favor. How do we know he doesn't have some other plan?"

Peter thought about her statement. He did trust Aslan, it was true. The great Lion was always with them, and Peter didn't believe that he would abandoned his people now. But at the same time, they were running out of time. "I do trust him, Lu, and I trust you and your faith in him. We're not going into this as if it was a pitched battle. We're trying to avoid loss of life wherever possible."

He stepped closer to her and took her smaller hand, rubbing it gently. "Lu, I would love to be able to wait for Aslan, but we've had no sign that he is coming, and the Telmarines will be here before long. This is our best chance to strike them while they're not expecting it. They're expecting us to be holed up here, waiting for the end, not mounting an offensive."

Lucy stared into his eyes, her own dark ones worried and pensive. After a long moment, she nodded. "All right, Peter, but remember what Oreius taught us about plans. Make sure you have a contingency plan if something goes wrong."

Peter nodded. "We will, Lucy. I promise." Looking around the room, he waited for anyone else who wanted to address the issue. When no one spoke, but he saw assent in the vast majority of their eyes, he nodded firmly. "All right, let's plan this out. Between the four of us," he indicated his siblings, "and Caspian, we should be able to come up with a detailed plan of the Cair. Caspian will know if anything has changed in the last twenty-five years, and he can tell us where we are most likely to find our targets. We'll need everyone's help on this."

He dug some clean parchment out of the pile of papers in front of them and together they bent over the makeshift table they'd erected out of pieces of stone and wood. It was time to begin planning in earnest.

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_The next evening…_

Corin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hearing similar stirrings from the Narnians and the scouts who were standing nearby, waiting for the signal. This could be the make or break tactical strike that could bring victory to the Narnians, but Corin had a feeling, despite the detailed plan that had been laid out, that something was going to go terribly wrong.

He wasn't sure why he was so uneasy. After all, Kings Peter and Edmund had come up with the plan, and their tactical planning was legendary. Even more so, they would both be working in a way that would play to their strengths, they had the advantage of knowing every inch of the area that they were attacking, and they had the element of surprise. Despite all of these advantages, Corin was uneasy.

If this was a plan conceived by his brother, he knew that Cor would have trusted his twin's intuition and called off the plan, or reworked it until Corin was not uneasy…but this wasn't Archenland, and it wasn't Cor making the plans. All he could do was follow his part of the plan and hope for the best, while trying to set aside his dismal feelings.

A soft call from overhead caused him to look up as one of the gryphons swept by overhead, a darker, man-shaped shadow clutched in his talons. It was King Edmund, who had been chosen to be the advance scout for this attack, mostly because of a small advantage that he had been carrying with them that had caught them all by surprise.

_Peter sat back and rubbed his aching neck. "That takes care of the castle layout and the plan to open the gates," he said, looking at the papers scattered in front of them. "Now we just need to figure out a signal system that the scout we send in can use that won't alert the Telmarines."_

"_A torch, perhaps?" Corin suggested. "Don't the guards have torches or fires to keep warm during the late watches?"_

_Peter considered it for a moment before shaking his head. "It's a good plan, but too unwieldy," he explained. "The scout would have to be focused on the fire as much as on the surroundings. We need something that he can use in an instant to warn us of any sudden changes in the Telmarine movements."_

_Edmund looked thoughtful. "I have an idea, Peter. Hang on." He hurried out of the Stone Table chamber, to the baffled looks of everyone else, but was back a few minutes later with a leather messenger pouch. He opened it and rooted around inside, pulling out a long, slender cylinder. "Will this work?"_

_Peter raised his eyebrow. "You could have mentioned that a bit sooner!"_

_Edmund laughed, as did the two Queens, although everyone else looked baffled and confused. He explained quickly. "This is a portable torch. It doesn't require fire, and it's easy to use." He pressed something on the cylinder, and a bright light shone from one end. "If we agree on a set code before we strike, I can position myself on one of the towers and signal the advance."_

"_Why you?" Peter asked._

"_One, I know how to work the torch. Two, I know Cair Paravel as well as you do, and I know what areas are most likely to give us problems. Three, I'm smaller than you, Caspian, or Corin, and it'll be easier for the gryphons to get me in unobserved."_

"_You're also one of the best fighters we have, Edmund," Susan reminded him._

"_Yes, but if Peter's plan works, there will be minimal fighting, and Corin and Caspian can easily make up for my not being there," Edmund countered._

Corin watched as the gryphon angled his wings and shot up into the sky, carrying Edmund along with him. The gryphon's dark brown, almost black, feathers blended into the night sky making the two of them nearly invisible. He glanced along the line again, looking at the Narnians who were waiting impatiently for their part.

"Aslan protect them…protect all of us," he whispered softly, seeing Glenstorm turn to look at him as the Centaur's keen ears picked up the quiet words, but not commenting.

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From this height, the sound of sea was a low, almost indistinguishable whisper over the sound of the wind rushing past Roron's wings. The gryphon had been all too willing to volunteer to carry his King into position. All of the gryphons had been eager to do something so important, so there had been no shortage of volunteers to get the strike force – consisting of Peter, Susan, Edmund, Caspian, and Trumpkin – into position.

Edmund peered through the night sky as they approached Cair Paravel from above. His heart clenched at the sight of the magnificent palace, remembering the days of riding out from the palace to settle disputes or visit their subjects, returning home to see the banners waving and hearing the trumpets echoing through the clear air.

Although nothing had changed on the outside of the castle, it seemed dark and ominous, not the bright, shining bastion and symbol of Narnia's freedom that it had been when Edmund and his siblings had lived here. Edmund's eyes swept the various towers, spotting the guards that were posted as lookouts. Reaching up, he touched Roron's chest to get the gryphon's attention. When Roron looked down at his passenger, Edmund indicated the tallest watchtower as their destination.

Roron nodded and angled his flight so that it would carry them up and over the top of the tower. Edmund could see the guard that was posted on the tower's watch platform. The guard had his back to them, and Roron came in towards the roof that sheltered the stairs leading into the tower. He dropped Edmund on the small roof, before landing as well, folding his wings to keep them from showing as the guard, hearing the sound of the gryphon's wings, turned around quickly.

Edmund held his breath as he crawled across the sloping roof, following Roron, whose job now was to take out this first guard swiftly and silently so that sounds of a fight would not alert the other guards. The gryphon edged across the roof, keeping back out of sight until the man turned back to his watch. Then, the gryphon struck, leaning over the roof and seizing the man by the shoulders with his foreclaws and yanking him back up on the roof, where Edmund knocked him out with a quick blow to the head.

He nodded to Roran before dropping lightly off the roof, landing in a crouch to absorb the impact of his feet on the stone. Rising slowly to his feet, he slipped to the parapet and peered over the edge, scoping out the placement of the guards who were stationed on the other towers.

No one seemed to have noticed his arrival, so he stepped over to the edge facing the forest and began clicking the torch in his hands on and off in the agreed-upon signal. The signal would tell the other gryphons that it was safe to bring in the strike team, and it would let Corin and the Narnians know that they could begin approaching the castle quietly.

He continued clicking the torch in the signal as four more gryphons swept by overhead, heading for what had been known as the Queens' Tower – where Lucy and Susan had had their chambers.

Now the plan was going to begin in earnest.

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If someone had told Caspian a week ago that he would be on the run from his murderous, usurping uncle, he would have exhibited very little surprise. As he had told King Peter and the other Narnian monarchs, he had always known that his uncle wanted his throne. The fact that Miraz had finally made a play for it didn't surprise him in the least.

However, if someone had told him that he would be working alongside the Narnians – long believed to be extinct – he would have laughed. The very idea would have been ridiculous in the extreme, even with everything that his Professor had told him about the Narnians and their Kings and Queens.

And if that same someone had told him that he would be making a midnight raid against the castle, being carried by a gryphon through the night sky, and working with the aforementioned Kings and Queens and the Archenland Crown Prince, he would have told that person that he was mad and considered calling the guards to have him locked up in the palace cells for his own safety. All the legends that he had heard about the Kings and Queens had seemed to him to be too extraordinary for any one to accomplish. He had always assumed that the Kings and Queens were regular, ordinary rulers, and that the legends about them compared them to an ideal, or were exaggerations to make them seem more powerful than they really were, as an intimidation tactic.

Yet, here he was. He was gently held in the talons of a gryphon who was winging his way through the star-spangled night sky, with the Narnian High King, the Archenland Crown Prince, and one of the Narnian Queens just behind him, while the other Narnian King waited at the top of one of the towers, signaling them in.

His gryphon – a grey-feathered female named Shadow – banked to avoid the tower where King Edmund was signaling from. As they leveled out, Caspian spotted a guard on the next tower, armed with a crossbow – taking aim at the younger King. Caspian tapped Shadow's foot to get her attention, indicating the guard when the gryphon glanced down.

Shadow nodded and suddenly released her grip on Caspian's waist and one arm, leaving Caspian dangling from one arm as she tightened her grip. His heart in his throat as he put his life in Shadow's talons, Caspian awkwardly managed to draw his sword from its sheath. He tightened his grip on his sword as Shadow folded her wings and dove.

The wind whistled past Caspian's face, making him blink back tears as the cold air made his eyes water. The gryphon was on top of the guard before he could react and all he had time to do was look up, shock and horror crossing his face. Caspian swung, the naked steel of his sword cutting across the man's chest and slicing through his armor as if it wasn't there.

As the guard tumbled over the parapet towards the rocky shoreline below, Shadow reached down and caught hold of Caspian's right arm, getting a better grip on him. Tucking her hindquarters under her, she managed to get her claws around his waist and pull him back up into the position that he had been before. He felt much more secure this way, and breathed a small sigh of relief.

Shadow heard the sigh, soft as it was, and glanced down at him. "You need not fear, my Prince," she murmured softly. "I shall not let you fall."

Caspian only nodded wordlessly, not trusting his voice at the moment. This was still all too foreign to him. He glanced over as a dark shape drew alongside of him. It was King Peter, who sent him a grateful look for taking care of the guard, before gesturing towards their destination, a long walkway just below one of the taller towers, which connected one tower with another. Caspian nodded and held his breath as Shadow dove again. Gentle as she was being, he knew he would never get used to this form of transportation. He much preferred a horse – or his own two feet!

As they drew closer to the towers, Shadow extended her wings and began slowing her descent and her speed in order to give him a gentle landing. The walkway was just ahead, and Caspian could see several guards stationed along it.

Just as he noticed the guards, one suddenly collapsed, an arrow in his back. A whistling noise cut the air and a second guard fell, the arrow lodged in his chest. As the other guards realized that they were under attack, Shadow released Caspian's waist again, lowering him gently to the stone. The second his feet touched down, he started running towards the closest guard as Shadow released him. He was on top of the guard before the man could react, his sword swinging.

Just ahead, he saw King Peter taking care of the last guard in the same fashion. Caspian felt a twinge of guilt about killing those who were supposed to be his subjects, but he squashed the feeling, reminding himself that these men were his uncle's allies, and they would kill him if he didn't kill them first.

Susan was lowered down right behind them, with Trumpkin just behind her. They quickly gathered together as their gryphon transportation rose back into the air. Peter glanced around swiftly before his eyes turned to Caspian. "All right, Caspian. Where are your professor's rooms?"

The first part of the plan for their raid was to make it safely to Cornelius' rooms. Lucy and Corin had both been insistent on that, although they hadn't given a satisfactory reason as to why – not that Caspian would argue with them. He had been most concerned about his tutor ever since the man had helped him escape the castle. The plan was to get Cornelius to tell them everything that had been going on since Caspian had fled, and to secure his help in dealing with Miraz. His tutor wasn't a fighter, but he was blindingly intelligent, and Caspian had no doubt that the good doctor would be more than capable of helping them get a confession out of the usurper.

Caspian glanced around, taking stock of their position. On their right was the tower where Caspian had his astronomy lessons. To the left was the tower where the royal household had their rooms – not Miraz, whose room was in a third tower to the north, but the rooms of the doctor, the healer, the seneschal, and the general. Caspian pointed to the highest balcony on that tower. "There."

Peter's eyes narrowed, but he looked oddly satisfied. "Good. We know every inch of that tower." Caspian cast a confused look at the High King and Peter elaborated. "That's the Queens' Tower – Susan and Lucy's rooms were in that tower – and that balcony is part of Susan's suite."

"There are guards stationed all through the tower," Caspian cautioned.

Peter nodded. "I expected as much." He looked at Trumpkin, who nodded and headed off in the opposite direction to complete his assigned tasks. Peter glanced skyward and made a signal. A moment later, the three gryphons descended from the sky and picked up their passengers.

Caspian wasn't quite sure what the High King had in mind, but he had agreed to follow the younger boy's lead. He knew that if Peter was half as skillful as the legends portrayed him to be, he would still surpass Caspian by a landslide. Besides, Peter was the one in charge of this raid, and it only made sense to follow him. It was only moments before the gryphons placed them gently on the balcony.

As Caspian's feet touched the stone, he saw Peter fiddling with the lock on the doors. The High King had pulled out a thin-bladed knife and slipped it into the gap between the doors. A moment later, there was a tiny _snickt_ as the lock sprang free and Peter pushed the doors open, an amused smirk on his face. "Just as easy as ever," he murmured to himself.

"I take it that all the jokes you and Edmund used to play on Lucy and I gave you plenty of practice at breaking into our rooms?" Susan whispered, a mock-annoyed expression crossing her face.

Peter only flashed her a quick grin as he led the way inside the room. Once they were all inside, the High King closed the doors and latched them as Caspian moved deeper into the room. "Professor?" he called softly.

The rooms were dark which was very unusual. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Doctor Cornelius to be awake all night researching or looking for new things to teach his charge. There had been many times when Caspian had come to these rooms for his lessons, only to find his tutor slumped over a desk, fast asleep, his head resting on the book he had been reading before he fell asleep.

It didn't take more than a few seconds for Caspian to come to the realization that the suite was empty of everyone except himself and his companions. He looked back at King Peter and Queen Susan, who were also looking around. Susan's expression was a mingled one of pleasure at being back in the rooms that had once been hers, and disgust as she took in the papers, books, and astronomical instruments scattered everywhere.

A gleam of moonlight reflecting off of something on the desk caught Caspian's attention, and he stepped over to the desk to see what it was. His breath caught in his throat as he realized that the moonlight was reflecting off of his tutors spectacles. The old man needed the lenses in order to read, and he would never have left them behind. Lying next to the glasses was a book, opened to an illuminated illustration of the four Pevensies riding together through a forest.

Peter and Susan came to stand next to him and Susan gasped a little at the sight of the book. "Peter, it's us!" Her hands traced the page before she frowned as they ran over a large hole in the page, right over the heart of one of the horses in the picture.

"My professor is fascinated with stories about you and your siblings, Queen Susan," Caspian told her absently, without taking his eyes from the lenses. He looked swiftly up at the High King. "I have to find him."

"You don't have time!" Peter replied, his voice somewhat sharp. "We need to find your uncle, and you need to get to the gates so Corin and Glenstorm can bring the others."

"Caspian, Peter's right," Susan added. "When we capture Miraz and gain control of the castle, we'll have plenty of time to find Cornelius."

Caspian shook his head. "I'll still have time to get to the gates and rejoin you."

Peter's frown was frightening in its intensity. "Caspian, if we abandon the plan, this could turn very badly for us. Edmund is up in the tower signaling the others. He's expecting you to be in place at the right time."

"I'll meet you in my uncle's chambers. The tallest tower, the highest suite. You don't understand. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here…and neither would you."

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_Of all the foolish…bloody ridiculous…_ Peter's thoughts ran wild as Caspian slipped out of the room into the stairwell. For a moment, the High King almost went after him and pulled him back, but he regained control of himself. As he had told Caspian, Edmund was expecting them to be in a certain place at a certain time so he could send the next signals to Corin and Glenstorm.

"Come on, Su," he hissed, moving out into the stairwell and descending as quickly as possible to the corridor, bypassing the rooms that belonged to Lucy. Once they reached the main corridor, he turned in the opposite direction that Caspian would have had to have gone. "We'll need to hurry." _The tallest tower…the highest suite…the Kings' Tower…my chambers._

The utter gall of the man astonished Peter yet again. Every time he thought he had the measure of the usurper – based on Caspian's description of the man – he found himself surprised again. To think that a murderer and usurper had claimed the rooms that belonged to Peter and Krisalyn…Peter couldn't even bring himself to finish the thought.

Fortunately, Peter knew all the passages and shortcuts between the Queen's Tower and the Kings' Tower. It was going to simply be a matter of getting there undetected.

Susan was right behind him, her borrowed bow held loosely in her hand, an arrow nocked to the string but not drawn. Peter's hand was wrapped around the hilt of his borrowed sword. While similar in length and weight to Rhindon, the sword _felt_ wrong. He missed his sword, with its keen edge, perfect balance, and exact length. Losing Rhindon had been one of the hardest parts about leaving Narnia, besides losing Krisalyn and his child – but the ache of not having Rhindon was drowned out by his worry for his wife and child. He had had the feeling that Corin knew more than he was saying about the whereabouts of his wife, but as long as Peter knew that she was safe, he could breathe easier.

_Keep your focus on the plan_, Peter reminded himself sternly as Susan pulled him into an alcove near a cross-corridor, where footsteps could be heard coming in their direction. That had been a near miss, and while Peter would have no problem taking out any Telmarine that got in his way, it wouldn't exactly be _quiet_ which is what they were going for with this plan.

They waited until the footsteps had passed, before edging out of the alcove and back into the corridor, heading down the passageways towards the stairs that would lead them into the Kings' Tower.

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Caspian moved down the corridors at a quick trot, grateful that it seemed they had arrived at a time when most of the guards were elsewhere. It made the prince a little uneasy – eighteen years of roaming the palace had taught him all the routes taken by the guards, and countless midnight astronomy lessons had given him a fair idea of them number of guards that should be around.

There were far fewer than he had expected, given his uncle's paranoia.

_King Peter must have been right. As long as my uncle remains Lord Protector, he has to rely on his own regiments of men, which include the palace guards. In order to take the How, he would need every man that he can spare._ Caspian hesitated before rounding the next corner, which would take him down to the dungeons. He listened, making sure no one was there, as an odd thought crossed his mind. _Praise Aslan for small favors._

The thought startled him. Never before had he felt any need to praise a higher power. The Telmarines didn't believe in such, and the Narnian traditions had been all but lost, except for what his tutor had told him about Narnia during the reign of the Four Monarchs. Why would he now feel the need to call upon the great Lion?

_It must be because the monarchs – including Prince Corin – believe in him,_ Caspian decided. _They invoke him all the time, and it is obvious they believe that he guides them, and they expect me to also put my trust in him as well._

Still, it was awkward, and the whole matter would require more thought, once he was no longer on a stealth mission. Perhaps he could sit down and discuss the matter with the monarchs, or Trufflehunter and the Professor.

Hearing no one in the corridor, he moved around the corner and straight for the stairs that led down. He knew at the end of the stairs a guard would be stationed. There always was someone down here when there was a prisoner. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet as he descended.

Just as he suspected, the guard was posted, his back to Caspian as he watched the cells. Caspian slowed his pace and crept up behind the guard, drawing his dagger and slamming the pommel into the man's head as he drew close enough. Catching the now-unconscious guard, he grabbed the keys off of his belt, before dragging him out of sight. He didn't know what time the guards changed posts down here, but there was no point in having an alarm raised.

He moved towards the cell and spotted his tutor, lying on a pile of foul-smelling straw, his back to the cell door, apparently asleep. Fumbling with the keys for a moment, he located the correct one and inserted it into the lock, twisting it to cause the bolt to slide back as he pulled the door open.

He dropped to his knees besides his tutor and shook the man's shoulder, waking him abruptly. Cornelius blinked several times at the sight of his prince leaning over him.

"Five more minutes?" Caspian whispered teasingly, the phrase reminding him of the night when his tutor had slipped into his room and saved his life by smuggling him out of the palace.

"What are you doing here?" Cornelius rasped, rolling over as Caspian searched for the key to the chains the old man wore. "I didn't help you escape just so you could break back in!"

Caspian unlocked the shackles and helped his friend to his feet. Once the professor was on his feet, he pushed Caspian towards the door. "You have to get out, before Miraz learns you're here."

"He's going to learn soon enough," Caspian remarked. "We're giving him your cell." He handed the key to the professor so the man could get the chains off of his legs. If he hurried, he could still make it to the gates and back to his uncle's rooms in plenty of time to meet up with King Peter and Queen Susan. They were to take out the guards around his uncle's room and then hold the rooms secure until Caspian arrived, and then they would all take Miraz together.

Cornelius grabbed Caspian's shoulder and shoved him back against the bars of the cell. "Don't underestimate Miraz as your father did."

The words sank slowly into Caspian's brain. _My father…underestimate Miraz? What is he talking about? My father died in his sleep…didn't he? But why else would Cornelius warn me about him? He's already tried to kill me once…my father…what does he have to do with this?_ "What are you talking about?" Caspian managed to croak as these thoughts, and many more, raced through his mind. Surely the professor wasn't implying what Caspian _thought_ he was? _Miraz wouldn't have sunk so low…would he?_

The old man's eyes dropped to the floor before he spoke. "I'm sorry." After a moment, he looked back up at Caspian.

Shoving his friend and mentor aside, Caspian headed straight up out of the dungeons, rage coursing through him. _He killed my father…I'll kill him myself…_

The corridors were still deserted as Caspian raced along them, taking the shortest routes, including several passages that were only used by the servants. He was further from the Tower than King Peter and Queen Susan, but he did know of one secret that he suspected they did not. Near the base of the tower, he ducked into a small alcove and pressed himself back against the stones, leaning all of his weight against them while his right hand searched for a tiny, almost hidden niche in the stone…there.

The wall slowly eased back under his weight. He shoved it back just enough to allow him to slip through, before he pushed it back into place, concealing the passage. He was at the base of a flight of steps, and even though he was in the dark, he still remembered the passage. He had found this passage once as a child, when he was exploring. It didn't lead straight into his uncle's room, however.

He raced up the stairs, knowing the thick stone would prevent anyone on the main stairs from hearing him. The stairs spiraled tightly, but the narrow confines of the passage helped him more than hindered him. He slowed as he went higher, and stretched his left hand out, feeling for the wall that dead-ended the passage. Fingers quested in the dark, and a moment later, brushed against stone at chest height and right in front of him. He stopped immediately and pushed his weight against the wall, shoving it out of place and into the room beyond – an empty room at the moment.

He slipped out of the passage and closed it behind himself, before moving through the dusty, deserted room. He was one level below his uncle's room, but he had very little doubt that he had managed to get there before King Peter and Queen Susan, who would have had to go all the way to the opposite side of the palace from the tower they were on, while from the hallway leading into the dungeons, there was a more direct route.

He listened at the door, and heard nothing, so he slipped the bolt back and moved out into the hallway. Now he moved more slowly, so as not to alert the guard he knew would be stationed outside his uncle's suite. He was at the door very quickly and caught the guard completely by surprise. A quick thrust of Caspian's sword, and the man was down. Caspian grabbed him and dragged him out of the way of the door, but didn't bother to move him any further.

_I'll kill him myself…no need to capture the Council then…my aunt not eligible for the throne as long as I live. Miraz's son…same thing. Only possibly in line for the position of Lord Protector…but he's much to young. The throne will be mine tonight._

Caspian moved through his uncle's suite and slipped into the bedchamber. The fire burned in the fireplace, banked to allow heat, but little light. There was plenty of light to see by, however, as Caspian moved to the bed, his sword extended.

The tip of the blade came to rest at the tender throat of his uncle. Miraz's eyes snapped open immediately at the touch of the cool metal and he smiled and chuckled softly. "Thank goodness you're safe."

"Get up," Caspian hissed.

Miraz didn't hesitate, pushing back the blankets, although he did tap his wife on the shoulder, stirring her from slumber as well. "Caspian?: she asked, as she realized what was going on.

"Stay where you are," Caspian snapped, backing off slightly to give his uncle room to stand, but keeping the sword tip resting on his uncle's throat.

"What are you doing?" Prunaprismia asked, as she sat up, although she didn't move.

"I should think it's obvious, dear," Miraz replied.

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Peter and Susan hurried up the stairs of the Kings' Tower, passing the suite that had formerly belonged to Edmund. There were no guards, which surprised both of them, but they both passed it off to Peter's prediction that Miraz wouldn't be expecting an attack inside the palace, so he would have sent his guards to augment the forced massing to take on the Narnians.

_Squish…_

Peter looked down as he stepped in something wet. In the light from a torch resting in a bracket on the wall, the liquid he had stepped in gleamed a bright red. Peter's eyes narrowed. _He didn't…he couldn't possibly have gotten here before us._ Picking up his pace, he raced up the stairs on the balls of his feet, abandoning stealth for speed. With the blood pooling on the steps, there was likely to be no one waiting in ambush for them.

Low voices ahead caught Peter's attention and he halted just before the open door to Miraz's room – _his_ room. Susan stopped right behind him, her fingers tightening on her drawn arrow in preparation to use it. The body of the guard lying a few steps above them told the truth. Caspian had somehow gotten here first, but instead of waiting for them, he had gone into his uncle's room.

"Bloody hell,_" _Peter swore softly. "Of all the times to turn into a complete prat…"

They stepped into the sitting room and began moving towards the bedchamber, the voices growing more distinct.

"What are you doing?" A woman's voice – presumably Caspian's aunt – asked.

"I should think it's obvious dear," a soft, accented voice, loaded with irony, replied. There was a moment's pause before the voice continued. "You know, some families might consider this inappropriate behavior."

"That doesn't seem to have stopped you!" Caspian snarled.

Peter and Susan paused outside the closed bedroom door, not sure what situation they would be bursting into. They needed to know more. Peter drew his sword, and Susan drew back slightly on her bow, to allow for a faster shot when it was necessary.

"But you're not like me, are you?" Miraz shot back, his voice pointed and sharp. There was no response from Caspian, and a moment later, Miraz's tone was filled with mocking sadness. "It's sad. The first time you've shown any backbone, and it's such a waste."

"Put the sword down, Caspian." the woman said suddenly. "I don't want to do this."

That did it. They had to stop this before the plan was completely botched. Peter raised a foot and kicked the door open as Susan charged past him, bow drawn. "We don't want you to either!"

Peter took in the situation quickly. Miraz was being held at sword-point by Caspian, while the prince had a crossbow pointed at him by the woman on the bed. Susan didn't hesitate, but pointed her arrow at the woman, although Peter knew she wouldn't shoot unless the woman gave her no choice.

Peter, however, focused his attention on Caspian. The prince was enraged – Peter could see it in his eyes, and he held the sword unwaveringly, although part of his attention was on the crossbow aimed at him.

"You know, this used to be a private room," Miraz said with a sigh, as he put his hands on his hips, affronted.

_You're right…it used to be my private room…mine and Krisalyn's._ The thought crossed Peter's mind before he could stop it, as he took in the sight of _his_ bed, with Caspian's aunt still sitting in it. That bed belonged to _him_…to him and his wife…or at least, it had. He would definitely be having a new bed brought up here once this was over.

He banished the train of thoughts, despite the memories this room brought back. Now was definitely not the time to be thinking about his wife, or the past. "What are you doing? You're supposed to be at the gates!" he snapped at the prince.

"No!" Caspian snapped back, his voice full of pain and anger. "Tonight, _for once_, I want the truth." He stepped forward, sword still extended, pushing Miraz back from the window as he altered his stance, prepared to drive the blade through his uncle's throat. "Did you kill my father?"

The question was low…hissed.

Everyone's attention was on Miraz and Caspian now, although Prunaprismia still had not lowered her crossbow, and Susan's bow remained drawn and aimed at the woman.

"Now we get to it."

The answer was soft…vague…but there was no doubt as to the meaning behind the words.

Prunaprismia lowered her crossbow out of shock. "You said your brother died in his sleep."

"That was more or less true," Miraz replied.

"Caspian, this won't make things any better," Susan tried to get through to the prince.

"We Telmarines would have nothing had we not taken it. Your father knew that as well as anyone. He's the one who conquered this kingdom for us."

"And taken it from the people to whom it rightfully belongs!" Peter snapped, fury filling him as he thought about what his people had suffered for the past twenty-five years while he and his siblings had been gone.

"How could you?" Prunaprismia asked, her attention still fixed on her husband's unexpected confession. She apparently hadn't realized how her husband had become regent for his nephew's throne.

"For the same reason you will pull that trigger," Miraz replied sharply. "For our son!" He moved forward suddenly, forcing Caspian to move back, although Caspian kept the sword at his uncle's throat.

"Stop!" Prunaprismia cried, the crossbow coming back to position, aimed at Caspian's heart.

"Stay right there!" Susan called, shifting her aim to cover Miraz.

"You need to make a choice, dear. Do you want our child to be king? Or do you want him to be like Caspian here?" Miraz was still moving forward, forcing Caspian back, as the sword cut him and a tiny rivulet of blood ran down his throat. "Fatherless!"

"No!" Prunaprismia cried, her finger tightening on the trigger, releasing the bolt, which flew across the room and hit Caspian's shoulder. The impact caused Caspian to jerk in pain, and Miraz ducked away from the blade heading towards another door that led into Peter's study, calling an alarm as he did so, as Prunaprismia's screams split the air.

Susan released her arrow at him, but he was too quick, and the arrow impacted the door, which Miraz had slammed behind him. Peter lunged towards the door, but pulled up short as he heard the bolt slide home.

Susan hurried over to check on Caspian, who was clutching his shoulder, bent double over a chair arm beside him. "Caspian are you all right?"

Before the Prince could answer, Peter stormed up to him. "What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?" he raged. "Now everything is messed up! Come on!" Grabbing Caspian by the collar and Susan by the arm, he dragged them out of the suite, leaving Prunaprismia crying on the bed.

"Peter, where-?" Susan tried, following her brother as he released the two of them, drawing his sword as a guard came rushing up the stairs at them.

"We need to get to the gates! Corin and our troops are just outside!" the King replied, finishing the man with a powerful thrust of his borrowed sword.

"It's too late, Peter! The alarm has been sounded!" Susan cried, grabbing an arrow and nocking it to her bow, in preparation for any other guards that were responding to the alarm. "The guards are alerted…we can't fight them all off. We need to fall back!"

Peter looked torn between trying to get to the gates and get their men in to finish the plan, or heeding his sister's advice. Finally he nodded curtly. "We need to get in the open so the gryphons can get to us."

Caspian shook his head. "Follow me, King Peter. My uncle will have crossbows aimed at the courtyard by now. It would be too dangerous for the gryphons." He veered off down a side passage that Peter recalled led to another courtyard on the eastern side of the palace. He frowned. There was no exit this way, and no way for them to signal their troops to pull back.

"Caspian, this doesn't lead to the courtyard," Peter called as he followed the prince at a sprint, Susan right ahead of him. How his sister was managing to run so well while wearing an ankle-length dress was beyond him, but she was easily keeping up with the fleet-footed prince.

"I'm aware of that, King Peter!" Caspian called, turning again and darting up a winding stone stairway. They charged headlong up the stairs, emerging on a balcony on the north side of one of the lower levels. Caspian skidded to a halt and let out a piercing whistle that Peter would have been willing to swear could have been heard back at the How. An answering cry followed, and the gryphons dove out of the night sky, arrowing in on their position thanks to Caspian's whistle.

They swept down out of the sky, quickly scooping up the three royals. As they shot back into the sky, Peter saw Edmund still at the top of the tower, fighting off a guard that had come up to the tower at the sound of the alarm. "Ed! Signal the troops to retreat!"

"I'm a bit busy, Peter!" Edmund called back, just before he slammed his forehead into the bridge of the guard's nose, making the man reel back, and giving Edmund a chance to finish him off with his sword.

Edmund snatched the torch that he had dropped in the fight and turned back towards the forest, flashing the signal that they had agreed would tell Corin and Glenstorm to fall back if something went wrong -part of Lucy's insistence on a contingency plan.

"Fleetwing!" Peter yelled up to his gryphon. "Circle around the castle! I want to make sure that the troops got the message to fall back!"

Fleetwing nodded and quickly banked around to the front of the castle. Peter was gratified to see that Corin and Glenstorm were urging them to fall back and get out of harm's way. Peter glanced over to see Caspian next to him, the gryphons carrying he, Susan, and Edmund matching Fleetwing with ease.

"Peter! What about Trumpkin?" Susan called, pointing down into the courtyard.

"I'll get him!" Peter reassured her, gesturing for Fleetwing to dive. The gryphon obeyed instantly, heading for the courtyard just behind the gates. Trumpkin was standing near a window in the room where the drawbridge was raised and lowered from, his bow out as he shot at the Telmarines trying to get into the room.

Fleetwing back-winged sharply, slowing his speed just enough that he was able to glide in right behind Trumpkin. Peter called out to the dwarf, who glanced back once, before shooting another arrow into an advancing Telmarine. Turning swiftly, he scrambled awkwardly out of the window and onto Fleetwing's back just as the gryphon came up behind him. As soon as he was on, Fleetwing swept his wings up in a powerful stroke and shot up into the night sky, Trumpkin hanging on for dear life.

"To the rendezvous!" Peter told the other gryphons, who immediately turned and began following the retreating troops. Reepicheep and his fellow mice would sneak out the same way they had slipped in, and would meet them at the rendezvous point as soon as they could. One of the Fauns was waiting just inside the forest, where he would meet the brave mice and carry them to safety as soon as they arrived, being able to move much more swiftly than the three mice could.

A lone figure on horseback could be seen following the troops and Peter signaled to Susan to take a look. Her gryphon dove, leveling out just above the rider, but a moment later shot back into the sky, gaining altitude rapidly. As Susan came alongside Peter she nodded to reassure him. "It's Doctor Cornelius! He slipped out after Caspian freed him and led a horse out one of the rear passages before the alarm was sounded!"

Peter nodded, his mouth tightening at the thought of what had caused their plan to fail so spectacularly. _If only Caspian had listened…this wouldn't have happened! Miraz would be our prisoner, we would have reclaimed Cair Paravel, and this war would be over!_

He would be having a _long_ talk with Caspian when they got back to the How.

_Don't forget to review! More will be coming soon!_


	19. Chapter 18: Confrontations

***creeps slowly out of hiding* Uh...hi everyone! After a month of racking my brains trying to figure out this chapter, I've finally got it posted! I have no excuses, other than the fact that this was a crucial chapter, one that I think you've all been waiting on tenterhooks for, and I wanted to make sure I could do justice to the initial idea that I had envisioned when I first came up with this story. Somehow over the last two days, the writer's block I was fighting suddenly resolved itself. I hope all of you like it, and please remember to review!**

_**Chapter Eighteen: Confrontations**_

_Aslan's How…dawn…_

It was a weary group that emerged from the woods and headed across the field towards Aslan's How as the sun began to peek over the horizon, turning the sky pink and pale blue. The Narnians walked in silence, led by Peter, Susan, Edmund, Caspian, and Corin.

Peter's face was marred by a dark look and a deep scowl as he kept sending glares Caspian's way. The plan had failed because Caspian had broken away from it, first by going to rescue his professor, and then by going after Miraz alone. Fortunately they had gotten away unscathed except for Caspian's minor shoulder wound that had hastily been bandaged when they had made it to the safety of the woods, but the plan's failure was disheartening to the Narnians, who had seen the first ray of hope for twenty-five years.

They passed through the ruins that fronted the entrance to the How, to see Lucy and Aislynn waiting for them at the top of the ramp, along with the Narnians who had stayed behind to guard the How. "What happened?" Lucy asked quietly, seeing the anger on her oldest brother's face. "Where is Miraz?"

"Ask him," Peter snarled, gesturing towards Caspian.

"Me?" Caspian responded sharply.

"If you had stayed with the plan, Miraz and the Council would be our prisoners now!" Peter snapped, turning on the prince. "We had a chance to end this war with one attack, and you ruined it!"

Caspian's eyes narrowed. "You were the one who ruined it _King_ Peter," he spat back. His anger was a palpable thing, and the audience looked between their chosen prince and their High King, whose face had gone chalk white with rage. Peter's eyes were like chips of ice as he stared Caspian down.

"How, in Aslan's name, do you believe that to be the case?"

The question, despite Peter's rage, was soft. A deadly calm backed the question, a warning that if Caspian pushed too far, Peter wouldn't hesitate to retaliate.

Caspian paid the warning no heed.

"Your arrival in Miraz's chamber pushed him to extremes!" Caspian cried. "I had the situation under control until you burst in and put pressure on him to provoke my aunt!"

"Caspian, your aunt had a crossbow pointed at you, and she _did_ shoot you," Susan pointed out softly, trying to diffuse the conflict that was rising between her brother and the prince.

"My aunt raised me!" Caspian snapped at the oldest Queen. "She was surprised when my uncle confessed to murdering my father, and she had _lowered the crossbow_! If you hadn't interfered, I could have dealt with the situation!"

"The same way that you were dealing with it before we came?" Peter shot back. "You called us, remember?"

"My first mistake."

A sharp gasp spread through the watchers and Peter's deadly calm gaze narrowed even further. Frowns crossed the faces of the other Pevensie siblings, and as one, they moved around Caspian to stand beside Peter, all of them giving off an angered, regal aura that showed their displeasure.

The other Narnians looked between their monarchs and the prince uncertainly. Was the conflict that they had dreaded when Caspian and the monarchs met about to occur? Aislynn and Corin exchanged glances before moving to stand behind the Pevensies, showing Caspian where their support lay.

"No."

Peter's voice was quiet and calm, his tone matter of fact when he continued. "Your first mistake was thinking that you could lead these people." He took on an even more serious, judgmental attitude – the same manner that he had used when passing judgment in the rare cases when Edmund had not been present at court. "I told you that we would be reserving judgment when we first spoke. Given the events of last night, I believe that the only recourse of action that we have is to declare you unfit to take the throne of Narnia."

Another gasp from the Narnians filled the air, and even Aislynn and Corin looked uncertain at Peter's words. Low murmurs filled the air, and Caspian stiffened, his own eyes narrowing in anger.

"Under what grounds, _Sire_?"

"The fact that your impulsiveness and inability to follow a plan could have cost the lives of our soldiers. The fact that you cannot obey simple orders. If you could not listen to my instructions, how do you expect to be able to follow the will of Aslan?"

The stand-off was growing more tense by the moment, and the Narnians shifted restlessly, uncertain what they should do or who they should throw their support behind. Invoking Aslan's name seemed to bring home the seriousness of the matter, and what Peter was suggesting was deeply troubling to the Narnians, who had agreed to follow the prince's lead.

Remarkably, it was Lucy who stepped forward. Before Caspian could formulate a response to Peter's – somewhat – rhetorical question, the youngest Queen spoke quietly, laying a hand on her brother's arm and looking directly at him. "Peter, calm down. Tell us what happened. Maybe we can still salvage this."

"No. We won't get another chance like this," Peter replied, although he did seem to make an effort to calm his temper. "Miraz has been alerted. All we can do now is make plans to defend the How." He turned and started heading back in to the How, but his siblings could all see that he was not as in control as he seemed to be. There was a subtle slump in his shoulders that spoke of a sleepless night, a let-down of adrenaline, the emotional impact of his temper being roused to its boiling point, and the disappointment of the failed plan. "These next plans will have to succeed. This is going to be an all or nothing stand – thanks to some very poor decisions."

"Hey!" Caspian bellowed, stopping Peter in his tracks as the prince – unused to being challenged, finally moved to retaliate. Peter turned around, very slowly, his stance warning Caspian that he was treading on very thin ice. "I am not the one who abandoned Narnia."

Caspian's words struck home. A look of soul-deep guilt, pain, and misery flashed across his features. Peter actually closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to force down the lump in his throat and the tears that had threatened at the thought of what had happened – not only to his wife and child – but to his beloved country in their absence. When he opened his eyes, there was no sign of the pain that had so briefly been on his face. Instead, his entire being radiated anger and extreme displeasure.

Peter stepped forward and got right in Caspian's face as he spoke, his eyes flashing blue fire. "You _invaded_ Narnia. You have no more right to lead it than Miraz does!" Caspian stormed past Peter, apparently not even listening to the High King any more.

Peter's next words, however, stopped Caspian cold. "You, him, your _father_…Narnia's better off without the lot of you!"

There was an instant of utter silence and everyone watching knew that the argument had gone too far. Letting out a deep, pain-filled yell, Caspian's hand flew to his waist, drawing his sword as he spun around.

Peter was just as quick; his borrowed sword was in his hand before Caspian even completed the turn, and they faced each other, their sword points hovering an inch from each other's throats.

"Stop it!" Edmund yelled, starting forward, only to be stopped as a horn carried by one of the sentries on watch was sounded. Everyone, including Peter and Caspian, turned to see what was going on, although neither of them lowered their swords.

From the far end of the field, row upon row of men were emerging from the woods. As the leading ranks exited the trees, standards were raised on poles – standards bearing the sapphire and silver colors of Archenland. At the head of the party were two figures on horseback, paced by an assortment of Narnians. There was a tall, black Centaur, dressed in full armor, although his human hair had gone grey with age, an ancient-looking Faun, and a Black Dwarf. The rider on the left was identical to Corin, save for the fact that a thin gold circlet graced his brow. The rider on the right wore a thick grey wool cloak, the hood pulled up, obscuring the rider's features.

The army – for army it was – marched across the field, stopping just shy of the Narnian forces who had gone on the raid the night before. There was a moment's pause, before the two riders on horseback and the Narnians came forward. The Narnian soldiers parted for them, and they stopped beside Susan, Edmund, Lucy, Corin, and Aislynn.

King Cor looked down at the group standing beside his horse, then looked over to where Peter and Caspian were standing at the How's entrance, swords still pointed at each other. "Well, it seems that we have arrived at a rather interesting time. I take it you were not warned of our coming?"

"Not all of us, brother," Corin said, his tone wry as he stepped up to his brother's horse. Cor reached down and Corin reached up, clasping arms in greeting.

"That was something I was going to tell you, but I didn't get a chance." Lucy's voice was exasperated. "Just before you got back, we had received word that Cor and his army were nearly here." She glared at Peter and Caspian, who slowly lowered their swords and sheathed them. Once both weapons were put away, she turned to greet Cor, until her eyes fell on the Narnians. "Oreius? Mr. Tumnus?" she cried, sounding for a moment like the ten-year old she was. Before anyone could react, she had launched herself forward into the Faun's arms.

Tumnus nearly stumbled back at the ten-year-old's impact, but he maintained his balance and his arms tightened around her reflexively. "Queen Lucy?" He stared into her face for a long moment, before they both began to laugh with joy at seeing each other alive and well.

That broke the odd tension, and Edmund rushed over to Oreius, who looked as surprised to see the four of them as they were to see him – even though he had _known_ there was a possibility that the Pevensies would be there. Peter was right behind his brother, and Susan was already greeting Tumnus as well, who looked just as surprised as Oreius, despite his pleasure at seeing them.

The four monarchs and their trusted advisors simply held and stared at each other for long moments, before the four monarchs backed off and nodded regally, in an attempt to regain some of their composure. Peter looked up at Cor. "Cor, old friend, it is wonderful that you have arrived. Your arrival could not be more fortuitous."

Cor dismounted and gave a bow of equals to Peter, who returned the gesture. "I see that Lady Aislynn's message did not exaggerate, for you have obviously convinced my twin of your identities, and given the surprise on the faces of the Narnian Council, I can also see the question is without a doubt answered."

Peter managed a half-smile. "Indeed. Please, come with us. We'll have your men shown to where they can refresh themselves from the march, and when you've had a chance to refresh yourself and spoken to your brother, we will need to begin making plans. A lot has changed since the last messages we sent."

Cor nodded, but didn't say anything, just glanced at the other rider, who was still mounted on a dapple-grey palfrey. Peter could see that the rider was a woman, since she was wearing divided riding skirts, but he couldn't make out any details of her face. Corin was standing by her horse and as she moved to dismount he helped her down carefully.

The woman took several steps closer to Peter, before raising shaking hands to her hood and folding it back. Her aristocratic face, while still smooth and unlined, was pale and tense. Long black hair, neatly braided back, was liberally streaked with grey, and faded violet eyes were locked on Peter's face, as if trying to memorize it.

Peter sucked in a startled breath, and Susan and Edmund stared at the woman, dumbstruck. Although the face was not as he remembered it, there was no mistaking those eyes. He stumbled back several paces in his shock, shaking his head once or twice, although he didn't take his eyes from the woman's face. Very slowly, he stepped forward. "Krisalyn?"

Surprised murmurs rushed through the gathered observers as those who were close enough to hear Peter's shocked identification of the woman passed the news on to the others standing further away. Peter didn't pay any attention to it, however, all of his attention focused on his wife.

She continued to stare at him, unspeaking. Her eyes tracked over his face, before locking her gaze with his. "Peter?" she finally whispered, her voice one of mingled disbelief, shock, and quiet hope.

"Aslan, Kris," Peter murmured, stepping closer again. He couldn't believe the changes in her. What he was seeing now didn't match up to what he remembered. _It's been twenty-five years, idiot,_ he reminded himself. _Of course she's not going to look the same as she did the last time you saw her._

They were less than a foot away from each other. Peter reached up and ever so gently, rested his hand on her face – or tried to. She flinched away from him just before his fingers brushed her cheek, leaving his hand in mid-air, until he lowered it in confusion. "Krisalyn? What-?"

He never got a chance to finish.

_**SMACK!!**_

Peter reeled back, the force of her slap making his ears ring and his eyes water. His cheek stung as if he had just been hit with a wooden board. His hand came up, an involuntary reflex to the impact and he stared at her, knowing that his surprise had to be written all over his face.

"_How __**dare**__ you_?" she whispered, her voice pain-filled and hoarse with choked-back tears. "How _**dare**_ you just up and abandon us for _twenty-five_ _**years**_?"

"Kris – I –I didn't mean…" Peter tried, as he turned to face her again his hand still holding his stinging cheek. Everything that he had planned to say to her had just disappeared, along with his normal eloquence. He had not been expecting this response from her, and in fact had not even anticipated it – although in hindsight he knew he should have. He had been so focused on his own feelings for her, his own guilt and worry, that he hadn't stopped to consider _her_ feelings about the matter. "I can explain…"

She didn't give him a chance to finish, instead turning away to face her shocked audience. She stepped over to Corin and embraced him lightly, nodded in Caspian's direction, and then headed into the How. The Narnians parted before her, all of them uncertain how to act. By right of marriage, and having been crowned by Aslan himself at her wedding to Peter, Krisalyn was their Queen, even if none of them had seen her while she'd been exiled in Archenland. But she had also just struck their High King, in full view of their Archenland allies. No one was certain what the protocol was for such a situation, because it had never happened before, so they acted purely on instinct.

Peter stared after his wife, his hand still resting on his cheek, even though the sting had faded. He didn't even notice that his siblings were pressed close to him, asking him if he was all right and trying to move his hand to take a look at the place where she had slapped him. He desperately wanted to go after her, but the same uncertainty that held the Narnians in place was keeping him from rushing after her and pulling her somewhere where they would have a little bit of privacy.

Finally, his eyes tracked over to Cor and Corin, who were staring at the four Pevensies with grim expressions on their faces. Peter only stared at them, realizing that they had known the whole time where Krisalyn was, and had not said a single word about it, even when he'd asked Corin point-blank. He wanted to say something about their lies of omission, but at the moment he couldn't make his voice work. He needed to talk to Kris…but he didn't know if _she_ wanted to talk to _him_.

Finally, he turned away and looked at his siblings, who were all staring at him with varying degrees of shock and emotional overload on their faces. "I need to…" he wasn't sure how to finish the statement – go and talk to Kris? be alone for a little while? – and he trailed off.

Susan pulled herself together the fastest, although there was still lingering shock and surprise on her face and in her eyes. "Go, Peter. We can wait until later to begin making plans. We'll make sure scouts are sent out so we have word in plenty of time when the Telmarines make their move."

Peter blinked at his sister several times before nodding and leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, Su. I appreciate it." Turning away from his siblings, he headed into the How in pursuit of his wife. Somehow he had to make her understand that he hadn't _intended_ to abandon her. He didn't know if she would be willing to listen, but he had to find a way. Losing her now to anger – Aslan forbid – was not an option after finding her again.

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When the scouts sent word that the raiding party was returning, Aislynn and Lucy had hurried up from where they were working on making sure there were plenty of supplies ready for the approaching Archenland party. Working side-by-side with her Aunt was oddly reassuring, although they were careful not to refer to each other that way.

Lucy spent a great deal of the time telling Aislynn about her father and her other aunt and uncle, so that she could get to know them – or at least know something about them before she was "introduced" to them. Listening to the funny stories about things that had happened during their reign, especially in the first few years while they were still learning how to be Kings and Queens did a lot to give Aislynn a much clearer picture of who her father and his siblings really were. She also learned a lot about her mother, since several of the stories featured Krisalyn. Aislynn suspected that this was deliberate on Lucy's part, giving her another viewpoint about her mother.

Watching the confrontation between Peter and Caspian had left her torn, however. Should she support her father, or Caspian, who she admired for his strength in standing up to his uncle and trying to rally the Narnians? Not knowing exactly what had happened during the raid, she wasn't sure where she should put her support. After several long seconds of furious debate, she finally joined the rest of her family, standing behind her father and lending him her silent support.

Her father's anger as he declared Caspian unfit for the throne of Narnia radiated off of him in a powerful aura. She vaguely remembered King Lune – her great-uncle, she now realized – doing the same thing once or twice when she was much younger, but the force radiating out from her father was almost tangible. She wanted to speak up, to defend Caspian and to try to convince her father to give him another chance, but the strength of his anger and his displeasure, especially as Caspian continued to fight back and insult her family held her silent.

When her father and Caspian drew swords on each other though…that was the final straw. She was about to cry out for them to stop, but King Edmund beat her to it, followed by the alert from the sentries that signaled the arrival of Cor and the army. Like the others, she turned to watch their approach, recognizing the Narnians who had always attended to her mother, realizing now, from Lucy's stories exactly who they were.

Oreius, the tall black centaur who had instructed her in tactics and self-defense, was the general of Narnia's armies and a personal body guard to Narnia's monarchs. The aged Faun who had instructed her in music, history, and lore was Tumnus, one of the most trusted of the monarch's advisors and her aunt's best friend. The Black Dwarf, Ratha, she didn't remember holding a place in any of her aunt's stories, but clearly she was a member of the Narnian Council.

Knowing that these Narnians always attended to her mother, she realized, long before Krisalyn dismounted and revealed herself to the gathered group, that her mother was riding alongside King Cor. She was somewhat surprised that Cor had permitted it, but then again…her mother was a force to be reckoned with, especially now, and as Queen of Narnia she had every right to return to her country.

That thought brought a sharp stab of pain to Aislynn's heart. She was still having difficulty comprehending the fact that her mother had lied to her for her entire life. She didn't understand her mother's reasoning. Surely telling Aislynn the truth wouldn't have put her in danger! Krisalyn had raised her daughter to be obedient, and if Krisalyn had explained things, including why she wanted Aislynn to remain in Anvard, Aislynn would have done so. She might have chafed at the restrictions, but she would have stayed.

Seeing her mother slap her father across the face had been completely unexpected, however. She would have thought that her mother would be happy to know that her father was still alive, that she would give him a chance to explain why he hadn't been there. After her Aunt Lucy had explained it to her, it had made a lot of sense, and Aislynn was willing to forgive him for something that was obviously not within his control. Part of that was because she was desperate to get to know him, and she knew that she would only be able to get angry at her father if he showed no interest in her, which Lucy had assured her would not be the case.

When her mother stormed away towards the How, Aislynn had looked back at her father for a moment, seeing that he was being comforted by his siblings, before slipping away quietly after her mother. Now she was wandering the maze-like corridors and caverns of the How in search of the older woman. She knew her mother's habits, but she didn't know how familiar her mother was with the interior of the How.

Finally, after checking dozens of smaller rooms, she found her mother in the passage that led down to the Stone Table, looking at one of the paintings on the wall of the cavern that detailed Narnia's history. As Aislynn approached, she saw that it was an image of a dark-haired woman standing with her father in front of Aslan, their hands loosely joined, a crown of silver and gold sparkling in her hair.

"Mother?" Aislynn asked quietly. "Are you all right?"

Krisalyn didn't respond at first, one hand gently running over the surface of the painting, her fingers tracing over Peter's face, while the other was clenched at her side so hard that the knuckles were white. "We were so happy, once," she murmured quietly. "Where did it all go wrong?"

Aislynn walked over and laid a hand on her mother's shoulder, gently drawing her away from the wall painting. "Mother, come with me," she urged the older woman. "We have a lot to talk about." Krisalyn followed her without protest, allowing her daughter to lead her into a quiet chamber a few feet away.

Once they were inside the chamber and out of the passageway, Krisalyn's eyes focused on her daughter and she smiled, although her smile was tinged with concern. "Aislynn, are you well?" She reached for her daughter and cupped the younger woman's face in her hands, looking into the lupine-shaded eyes.

Aislynn nodded and placed her own hands over her mother's returning her smile, although Aislynn's was one of confusion and a hint of betrayal, which made Krisalyn look at her daughter closely. "I'm well, Mother. There have been no difficulties since I arrived, but being here has taught me a very great deal that I didn't expect to learn."

Krisalyn frowned but before Aislynn could continue, realization dawned on the old Queen. "You know."

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Peter moved through the caves and tunnels of the How in a daze, searching for his wife. He was still shocked at her reception, but he was determined to find her and explain what had happened. She believed that he willfully abandoned her, and nothing could be further from the truth. He just had to make her understand that, to show her how worried he had been…

Word of the confrontation outside had apparently spread rapidly, as the Narnians who had not been in the raiding party and who had not been able to leave their work to greet the returning troops seemed to know what was going on. Peter could see it in the way they glanced up at him before returning to their tasks as soon as they met his eyes. He didn't know what they saw, and at the moment he didn't particularly care. He was used to constantly being the center of attention. As a King, he was very much a public figure, and finding time to simply be himself with his wife and his siblings had been very difficult at times. He ignored the looks and the muttered whispers that followed him as he searched the How for his wife.

He turned down the passageway leading to the Stone Table, the last place he had to look. Voices from further down the passage caught his attention and he slowed his footsteps. After a moment, he recognized Aislynn's voice, and confusion struck him for a moment. When had she left the gathered Narnians outside? What was she doing in here? Who was she talking to?

The answer to the last question came almost before he finished the thought. "There have been no difficulties since I arrived, but being here has taught me a very great deal that I didn't expect to learn."

A moment later, he heard Krisalyn's voice. It was flat and dull, but there was a note in it that Peter wasn't sure how to interpret. "You know."

"Yes, Mother, I know. I know that you are the last Queen of Narnia, I know that the Narnians that have followed you all these years are what remains of the Narnian Council, I know that I am the heir to the throne of Narnia, and I know that Peter is my father and his siblings are my aunts and uncle."

Peter blinked as Aislynn's words sank in. _Aislynn is my daughter_? His daughter had been here the whole time? She'd been right in front of him, and he hadn't seen it? He thought back to all the interactions that he had had with the young woman, and wondered why he hadn't realized it sooner.

Now that he knew the truth, he realized that Aislynn even looked like her mother and like him. That explained the nagging sense of familiarity he had felt when he had first met her. He had seen the features that resembled her mother, but because he hadn't been looking for his daughter to be with the Narnian resistance, he had dismissed what he had seen.

He sagged back against the wall of the corridor as the realization sank in. Immediately following, however, was a slow-burning, irrational anger. Cor and Corin had sent _his daughter_ as a spy, into enemy territory. The only heir to the four thrones had been sent past the border that she must have been taken across as a baby. Cor and Corin had deliberately put his daughter in danger.

He was distracted from his intentions of hunting down the Archenland King and Crown Prince and giving them a piece of his mind when Krisalyn spoke again. "How?" He could listen to her voice all day.

"Queen Lucy. She asked the right questions, drew her own conclusions, and when the evidence was overwhelming, she told me the truth. She explained everything, Mother. Why they left Narnia, why they are younger than they should be, where they've been all these years…it all makes sense."

_Lucy_ had known? Peter felt like he had just been punched in the gut. His baby sister had _known_ his daughter was here and hadn't even bothered to tell him? She had told his daughter the truth about who she was, but hadn't bothered to tell her own brother that his daughter was right in front of him?

"There is no excuse for what they did, Aislynn." Krisalyn's voice was taut with anger, grief, and betrayal. "The very day I told your father that I was pregnant with you, they disappeared. They sent no word that they would be delayed once they were overdue to return, their belongings were found lying neatly on the ground, with no signs of a struggle, and there was no trace of them for _twenty-five years_." She was silent for a moment, before she spoke again. "Aislynn, no. I don't want to hear whatever excuse Lucy gave you. That's all it could possibly be – an excuse."

Peter's eyes closed as he listened to the emotions in his wife's voice. She had apparently taken their disappearance to heart. He didn't want her to feel that pain, but she wasn't the same person she had been – the person he remembered. The years had obviously taken a toll on her in more ways than one, and he wasn't sure how he could breach the decades-long gap between them.

Finally, he stepped towards the doorway, pausing as he took in the room. His wife was standing near the far wall, holding Aislynn's hands in hers. His daughter – _his daughter!_ – had a stubborn, exasperated look on her face as she tried to get through to her mother. Now that they were standing together, it struck Peter again that he should have realized that Aislynn was his. There were too many similarities between them, and Aislynn also resembled him – but he had not been looking for _his_ features when he had felt that sense of recognition upon meeting her.

"Krisalyn, we need to talk," Peter said after a moment of staring at his daughter. He tore his eyes away from her face and fastened them instead on his wife.

Krisalyn stared at him, standing framed in the doorway, and for a moment, he looked like the warrior King that she remembered. There was a presence to him that stirred the little flame of hope that she had been trying to suppress, but could no longer deny. Even now, when he was much younger than he had been the first time she had met him, her heart knew that this was Peter, the man that she had fallen in love with and married, and the father of her beautiful daughter.

There was no hope of quashing that flame any longer, and that was the truly painful part. After what he had done, she didn't _want_ anything more to do with him. He had betrayed her, betrayed Narnia, and left her to raise their daughter and live in exile alone. But her heart wouldn't permit it.

Still, she was not about to let him walk all over her. "There is nothing that you have to say that I want to hear Peter," she told him firmly, turning away.

"Krisalyn."

The word – her name – was a command. A command that she wanted to ignore, but found that she couldn't. Against her will, she found herself turning back to face this boy – her husband…her King.

"On the day we were wed, Aslan asked you if you swore to remain true to me, through all the trials and blessings that our lives would bring, and to use your love to enrich our lives together. Do you remember what you said?"

Krisalyn closed her eyes, the memory of that day stabbing her heart painfully. She had thought about it often over the last two-and-a-half decades, and she still remembered her answer.

"I swear so to do," she whispered. She opened her eyes, feeling moisture from tears she was trying not to shed clinging to her eyelids. She was not going to cry in front of Peter. Not this time.

He stepped into the room, stopping right in front of where she stood with Aislynn. "I'm right here, Krisalyn. I am still your husband, no matter what has happened between us. A great deal has happened, and I am going to tell you the truth. I have no reason to lie to you, and I never have and I never will." He reached out and gently cupped her cheeks in his hand, his thumb brushing at the unshed tears and wiping them away. "I know you're hurt by what has happened. Believe me, love, if I could change anything about what has happened, I would. I've been out of my mind with worry for you and our child."

He glanced over at Aislynn. "We're a family, and it's time we had a long talk."

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Lucy watched her oldest brother walk away, in the direction that Krisalyn had gone. Her heart ached for him. She wanted to be there to comfort him, but she understood that this was something that Peter and Krisalyn needed to discuss in private. There would be time enough later for the three of them to sit down with Krisalyn and apologize and try to reconnect with the sister that they had left behind.

She looked over at their reinforcements from Archenland. Corin stood talking to some of the men in a small group, while Cor, Oreius, Tumnus, and a Black Dwarf that she didn't recognize stood slightly off to the side, a little apart from where Susan and Edmund stood. The confrontation between Peter and Krisalyn had shaken everyone, including her siblings, and no one was exactly sure what should happen next.

Finally, Lucy raised her voice so that everyone could hear her. Now, if ever, was the time for the Valiant Queen to make an appearance. "Come, let's resume our tasks. Those of you that were part of last night's raid, take some rest. Those who stayed here, there is still a great deal to be done to prepare for the defense of the How."

Edmund took a cue from her and raised his voice as she trailed off. "Scouts and sentries, check with your leaders and position yourselves to keep watch for the Telmarine forces. We need to know where they are now, and we need to know when they are on the move so we can prepare for the assault. Report to us at the first sighting."

There was a murmur from the Narnians, as their forces began to disband to go about their duties. Lucy spotted the wolves, panthers, and other large cats moving off towards the woods, where they would be able to slink through the underbrush on scouting runs. The Fauns quickly divided up sentry duties, and the others moved to return to their work. Two of the centaurs, Glenstorm's wife and his youngest son, stepped forward and offered to show the Archenland forces where they could bivouac until they were needed.

Within minutes, everyone was going about their duties, leaving Susan, Edmund, and Lucy standing outside with Cor, Corin, Oreius, Tumnus, Glenstorm, Reepicheep, Trufflehunter, Nikabrik, Trumpkin, Cornelius, Caspian, and the Black Dwarf who had accompanied the Archenland forces and the Narnian council.

They stood there in an awkward silence for a long moment, before Glenstorm stepped up to Oreius and offered him a centaur salute and bow, which Oreius returned. "The army is yours to command, General," Glenstorm said firmly.

Oreius nodded his grey head. "Thank you, my son. You have done well."

"_Son?!_" the three Pevensies chorused together. They exchanged dumbfounded looks. When had Oreius – who had once sworn that he would never take a mate, since his duty was to his monarchs and their families – ever bent his resolve and not only found a mate but had a family?

Glenstorm and Oreius both turned to the Pevensies with identical amused expressions. It was Oreius who responded to their shocked question. "Indeed. Glenstorm is my eldest son, Your Majesties."

Edmund shook his head, still not comprehending the idea. "This from the centaur who told Peter and I – on more than one occasion, I might add – that he had no intention of taking a mate? I'm sensing there is some story there."

"Perhaps one day you'll hear it," Oreius replied. "However, now is not the time to discuss such things."

Cor nodded. "There is a great deal that we must do, and we will need King Peter's voice."

"We will be speaking for Peter for the time being," Edmund said firmly, indicating his siblings and himself. "Our brother has much to discuss with his wife and we have no intention of disturbing him until he is ready."

"There is a great deal on that matter that we will need to discuss as well," Tumnus said. "The circumstances surrounding your disappearance, for one."

"We would be more than happy to explain the entire situation to all of you," Susan responded. "Let us adjourn to the planning room and hold our Council there."

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Aislynn watched the confrontation between her mother and father. She was tense, uncertain what to expect. When her mother had turned away from her father, she wasn't sure how he would react. The tales and stories – both those she had been raised on, and the ones that Lucy had told her – painted a picture of her father as a kind, gentle man unless Narnia's safety or his family was threatened. But her mother was being unaccountably cold and rude, and Aislynn honestly didn't know how her father would react to his wife's dismissal.

A single word forced her mother to turn her attention back to him. The regal, commanding aura that encompassed him was amazing and confirmed the title of "the Magnificent" that Aslan had bestowed upon her father. Despite his young age – a fact that continued to boggle her mind - there was no denying that this man was a King, and that her mother had the utmost respect for him, even if she wasn't showing it at the moment.

A quiet reminder of her wedding vow served to nearly bring Krisalyn to tears and caused Aislynn to blink back a few of her own. The gentleness with which Peter addressed Krisalyn, and the tender expression on his face as he held her and told her quite firmly that it was time they talked, was enough to prove to her that her father was the man that the legends and stories painted him as.

When Krisalyn nodded and agreed to talk, Peter released her and turned to Aislynn. Now it was his blue eyes that were filled with tears as he looked at her, and Aislynn realized how hard this must be for him. He had left Narnia for four months, before she was even born, only to return and find a woman grown where he had been expecting to find a tiny infant – if that.

"Aislynn," he breathed her name as if it was sacred to him, before holding out his arms.

She didn't hesitate, but ran into them, feeling him wrap his arms around her in a firm and caring embrace. She was taller than he was by several inches, so it was somewhat awkward, but the love and care in the gentle, yet fierce way he held her told her everything that she needed to know. Her father loved her, and being able to acknowledge her as his child was important to him.

Peter simply held her for several moments. This was his daughter, this lovely, intelligent woman was his _daughter_. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he thought about everything that he had missed. He hadn't been there when she had been born, or to see her first steps, or to hear her say her first words. He hadn't been there to comfort her through her first broken heart, or to chase away the young men who sought her hand. He blinked the tears away with a will. This wasn't the time to mourn what he had missed, this was the time to rejoice that he had found her and her mother again.

Releasing her, he reached up and caught her face in his hands and gently pulled her down so that he could place a light kiss on her forehead. "Aislynn, my daughter. You've become an amazing woman," he whispered in her ear as he pulled back.

"Father," she whispered, her own voice choked. "At last, I finally get to know you."

Peter nodded. "There will be plenty of time for us to get to know each other, my darling," he murmured. Stepping back, away from her, was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He had missed everything in her life thus far, and all he wanted was to hold her close in his arms again, and to freeze time and enjoy that sensation forever. But such a thing was impossible, and he still had to work out what had happened between he and Krisalyn, help her to understand why he hadn't been there for her to help her raise their beautiful daughter – and he still had to help Narnia regain her freedom from the Telmarines that oppressed her.

He turned back to his wife, who was watching him with a wary, closed expression. It was apparent that she still didn't fully trust him, especially not with something so precious as their daughter. He didn't blame her, but seeing that expression on her face, when she had normally been so warm and open with him, always offering her love, being his comfort and his shelter was heart-wrenching. He deserved it, but it still hurt that he had lost the trust of the one woman who had won his heart and become his partner.

Looking around the room, he spotted a few low stools in the corner and he went over and picked them up, bringing them back over to his wife and daughter. Once they were seated, he took a seat on his own stool, within arms-length of both of them, but not touching them, not yet. There was still too much anger and betrayal between he and Krisalyn, and although it seemed that Aislynn had forgiven him and welcomed him whole-heartedly, he wasn't counting on that to last.

"Krisalyn, Aislynn…I want it understood right away that you have been the only things on my mind the entire time that I was gone. I've been out of my mind with worry, and I nearly alienated my siblings because of it."

Krisalyn shook her head. "They're just words, Peter. Empty words. You haven't been here. You've been gone for –"

"Four months," Peter interrupted her softly.

Krisalyn blinked, her faded violet eyes narrowing in disbelief. "What?"

"It's only been four months from my perspective," Peter repeated. "Krisalyn, I never intended to leave the way I did. I didn't have a choice. What happened was an accident."

"An accident?" she asked, incredulously. "An accident took you away from your family, your country, your responsibilities, for twenty-five years?"

"Yes."

She shook her head again. "I can't believe that, Peter. You swore to me that you would always come back, that you would never abandon me…but that's exactly what you did!"

"Mother," Aislynn inserted quickly, before her mother's rant could gain momentum. "If you don't give him a chance to explain, you won't ever understand what happened. Aunt Lucy told me the whole story, and it makes sense. Be kind enough to let him tell you what happened."

Krisalyn opened her mouth like she was going to say something more, but finally she closed it and nodded for Peter to speak.

"Thank you," Peter told his daughter softly, and she smiled at him. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, before he turned back to his wife, who was looking at him with eyes filled with bitterness. The look was more painful than a stab wound to the chest – something he had intimate experience with, since it had happened to him during one of the campaigns to quell the Giants of Ettinsmoor in the first few years of his rule.

"Kris, when we rode out from Cair Paravel that day, our only intention was to go after the White Stag," he began. "We nearly caught up with him, until we accidentally stopped to rest right under the lamppost."

"Lamppost?" Krisalyn and Aislynn echoed, confused by the strange word.

Peter nodded, before realizing that they wouldn't know what a lamppost was. "It's an object from England – the place where my siblings and I originally came from. They line the streets and are lit at night so that travelers can traverse the road in safety. This one was brought to Narnia at the same time Aslan sung her into being, by the White Witch. It marked the place where we originally entered Narnia. We found it and at first we had forgotten what it was, since we hadn't seen one in fifteen years. Lucy suddenly remembered that it had something to do with Spare Oom – the Narnians' term for where we came from. She led us back through the doorway that brought us here, and we arrived to find that the passageway sealed itself behind us – we couldn't get back through."

"There's a passageway out in the Western Woods that leads to another world?" Krisalyn asked, skeptically.

"Not anymore," Peter corrected her, gently. "We tried so many times to open it again – to get back through, but it didn't. I don't know if it is permanently closed or not, but we were unable to open it from England. The only choice we had at that point, since we didn't know any other way to get back to Narnia, was to resume our lives where we left off. Four months passed there before Caspian sounded Susan's horn and pulled us back into Narnia, only for us to discover that twenty-five years had passed here."

Krisalyn still looked skeptical of his claim. "Why are you younger than when you left, Peter? I remember you as being thirty-one, not…whatever age you are now."

"Sixteen," Peter said sadly. "It was a shock for us too. But time passes differently between England and Narnia. Even though fifteen years passed here since we first entered Narnia, back in England no time had passed at all. We somehow reverted back to the ages that we were when we first stepped into Narnia. Edmund thought that it might have been Aslan's doing, since it would have been hard to explain to our parents how we went away for a few months and returned home fifteen years older than when we left." He looked between his wife and his daughter. "Please, believe me, Krisalyn."

Both women were silent for a moment as they regarded Peter. Aislynn was the first to speak. "I believe you, Father. I don't understand _why_ it happened, or _why_ Aslan wouldn't have wanted you here to help Mother raise me, but you're here now, and that's all that matters to me." She rose to her feet and moved over in front of his stool before she knelt down so she could hug him again.

Tears filled Peter's eyes at the simple proclamation and the embrace she bestowed. More than anything, his daughter had every right to hate him because he had never been there, but instead she had accepted what had happened – accepted _him_ – whole-heartedly, and wanted nothing more than to get to know him _now_.

Both of them turned slowly and looked at Krisalyn, waiting for her answer.

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As the Narnian Council, and the royalty of Archenland and Narnia filed into the smaller planning room that they had established for making the plans for the defense of the How and the raid on Cair Paravel, there was an air of awkwardness among the assembly. The Pevensies wanted desperately to pull their old friends aside and talk to them about everything that had happened over the last twenty-five years, to find out what had happened to those who were not here with them.

Equally as awkward, the Narnian Council – and the two Archenland royals – wanted to know where their Kings and Queens had been for the past twenty-five years, and what could have made them abandon their responsibility to their people and their country. Even more, they wanted to understand how their Kings and Queens, full adults when they left Narnia, were suddenly children again.

As everyone took their places around the small table, Edmund stood at the head, in the place that would normally be Peter's and cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. As all eyes turned towards him, he saw Caspian hovering near the doorway, uncertain about where he should be. Edmund nodded him toward the table, and Caspian hesitated a moment before shaking his head and backing out of the room. Apparently he was still upset about the confrontation with Peter from earlier. Edmund resolved to speak to him later. He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened to cause them to pull out so abruptly from the raid, or what had caused the argument between his brother and the prince, but at the moment it wasn't important.

He shook his head before refocusing his attention on the rest of the group. "I know there are a great many questions that you have for the three of us," he began, calling the meeting to order. "At any other time, we would be more than pleased to answer them, since we have a great many questions of our own about what has been happening over the years that we have been gone." Nods all around, from everyone who was present, including his sisters.

"Unfortunately, at the moment, we don't have time to discuss what has past. The Telmarine army is aware that we have mustered for an attack, and that we are prepared to fight them now. I expect that they will be here very soon. We need to finish making plans to defend the How." Edmund looked around and met each person's gaze in turn. "This will be our only chance to save Narnia. If we fail here, the Telmarines will not show us any mercy. They failed to destroy the Narnians once, but they won't fail to do so again."

There was some restless shifting from the group as they realized the danger that Narnia was truly in. Until this point, because they had survived everything that the Telmarines had done to them, they had thought that if they failed to retake Narnia now, they could simply retreat and regroup and attack again when their enemies were least expecting it. But that wasn't going to be an option for them this time, because the Telmarines would not allow it. This was going to be their all or nothing final stand.

Edmund waited for several breaths, giving them time to absorb that concept. Learning just how perilously endangered one's way of life and history were was not something that was easy to grasp. Peter and Edmund had discussed it in great detail when they rode to the rendezvous from which they had launched the raid on the castle. They had, of course, been planning on a victory, but they had known that things could turn against them and they might have to prepare for a full assault at the How if they had failed. Too many years of tactical planning under Oreius' leadership had taught them to try to anticipate every outcome, but this was the one they had been hoping that they wouldn't have to deal with.

"Now," Edmund drew their attention back the matter at hand. "Cor, I am most pleased to see you again. How many men were you able to bring with you?"

"All that could be spared, King Edmund," the older King replied. "I brought fifteen hundred of my infantry, two hundred cavalry, and twenty-five scouts."

While it seemed like a great deal, especially when added to the various Narnian forces that were mustered, Edmund knew that they were still outnumbered. Caspian had mentioned that his uncle commanded two thousand men, just based in or near Cair Paravel, and there had been additional Lords of the Council who had men at their command. If Miraz managed to bring their whole army together, they would be sorely outnumbered – and that wasn't figuring in the siege weapons that the Telmarines had at their command.

Edmund only nodded in thanks. He turned to Oreius and Glenstorm. "General, we will need to work out tactics which will allow us to remove as many of the enemy forces as we can prior to their arrival, or in one fell swoop during the battle that they will be bringing to our very doorstep." Oreius nodded, the thoughtful expression on his face one that Edmund had seen any number of times when they were planning out their campaigns.

He turned next to Susan and Trumpkin. "Peter and I have discussed what the best possible way to allocate our resources is, and we decided that it would be to the greatest benefit to put the two of you in charge of the archers. You're both gifted archers yourselves, and you both command a great deal of respect because of it."

"Fair enough," Susan replied, as Trumpkin nodded in agreement.

Edmund turned next to Cornelius. "Doctor, it's good to meet you, although the circumstances are less than ideal. At the moment we only have theories about Miraz's plans. It was our hope that you would know more, since you have been closer to him than Caspian was."

The old tutor sighed. "Not that much closer, I'm afraid, Your Majesty. Suspicion fell on me almost immediately after Caspian escaped the night Miraz's son was born, and I was only the prince's tutor. I was never privy to the Council or their business. I was arrested and imprisoned two days after Caspian fled."

Edmund pursed his lips. "You must know something about the political atmosphere around Miraz."

Cornelius looked thoughtful. "One in my position hears things, unofficially. The Telmarines are well-known for being very ambitious. The Council of Lords does not fully trust Miraz, although I have no doubt that with the events of last night, he may be able to sway several of them to his side. They fear the Narnians, and with Caspian's status still somewhat uncertain, Lord Miraz is the highest ranking authority the Telmarines have."

Edmund's hands tightened where they rested on the edge of the table. "Is there any chance that they will name him King?"

Cornelius looked reluctant to speak, but finally nodded. "I would say that there is a very good chance. Caspian broke into the palace and attacked his uncle and Lady Prunaprismia and freed a prisoner. Those are not the actions of a man who is supposedly allied with the Telmarines. Miraz is very canny, and I have no doubt that he'll use that in order to have himself named King."

Edmund resisted the urge to swear. The one thing that they had been hoping to avoid was coming to pass. If Miraz was named King and was able to rally the entire army, they would be in even more trouble than they currently were. They couldn't even try another surprise attack, because Miraz was now alerted and wouldn't leave himself that unguarded again.

"If that should come to pass, what would we be looking at in terms of the number of men that Miraz would bring to bear against us?" Corin asked, understanding what Edmund didn't wish to voice.

Cornelius sighed. "Possibly tens of thousands of men and dozens of war machines. There were originally eighteen lords of the council, but over the last eighteen years those who openly supported Caspian instead of Miraz have mysteriously vanished. Now only eleven, including Miraz, remain. The only thing that might prevent such an occurrence would be Miraz's arrogance. He may believe that he has enough men to overrun us without needing to call upon the full army."

Edmund nodded. "May Aslan bring that to pass," he murmured softly. Looking around at their war council, he reached for the parchments in front of him. "We are pressed for time, my friends. Let us finalize our plans."

"King Edmund, if I may?" Cor inserted quietly. "What about King Peter and Prince Caspian? Do we not need their input as well?"

Edmund let his breath out in a slow sigh to prevent the retort that wanted to emerge instead. "Peter has a great deal to discuss with his wife. He'll join us soon enough. He and I have already discussed most of these plans and he trusts me to implement them in his absence." It was an old dance, and one that had long been set aside as Edmund and his siblings had aged the first time they were in Narnia.

In the early years of their reign, many of those that they dealt with had sorely underestimated them because of their youth, looking to Peter as the sole authority. Peter, at sixteen, was the oldest of them and a natural leader, as he had demonstrated at Beruna. It had taken time for Susan, Edmund, and Lucy to acquire the leadership skills that Peter had been born with. His title of High King had constantly fooled people, because they didn't seem to comprehend that Peter's younger siblings had just as much authority as Peter did, and could, if necessary overrule their High King.

Cor had never known them without the royal bearing and experience that age and years of ruling had brought. He hadn't met them until a year before they departed Narnia, when they had fourteen years of ruling behind them. They had been adults – experienced, wise, and with the confidence that came from success. Now, however, the Archenland King was seeing them as so many others who had taken one look at the four of them in the early years and seen only children whose authority was lesser than that of the High King.

He was forgetting that they had fifteen years of experience in leading a country. He was more than twice Edmund's current age, and despite the friendship between them in that year before they had returned to England, both the Archenland royals were falling into the trap of underestimating Aslan's chosen monarchs.

Cor seemed to realize exactly what Edmund was implying and lowered his head in apology, which Edmund granted with a nod. As much as it had used to irk him, being treated as lesser than Peter, it honestly didn't matter anymore. The years had given him steadiness and confidence in his own abilities, and right now Narnia needed her rulers and allies to stand firm. Splintering under the weight of twenty-five years past would only give the Telmarines an easy victory over them.

"As for Prince Caspian," Edmund continued smoothly. "I am afraid that there is a great deal that we still need to work out, which I intend to do once we have finished here. Right now, we need these plans finalized so that we can finish making our preparations for the assault."

The council all nodded, although Cornelius had a small frown on his face, before they bent to their task of preparing to repel the Telmarine assault.

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Peter held his breath as he waited for Krisalyn to accept what he had told her. He didn't know what else he could do to convince her. If she refused him here, he would have to leave her for the time being, because he was needed in the war council. He trusted Edmund to handle things, but his first responsibility was to Narnia. He was afraid, however, that if he was forced to leave to deal with that, he would drive Krisalyn further away from him than she already was.

He didn't know what was going on in her mind, but it clearly had something to do with the idea of being abandoned by her husband. He didn't want her to feel that he was abandoning her again, but as she knew all too well, his responsibilities to Narnia had to come first, and he would leave if he must.

Krisalyn's violet eyes were fixed on his face as a flurry of emotions crossed her face, quickly enough that he wasn't able to read her. Whatever internal debate she was going through, it was intense as she tried to weigh her own feelings and the past twenty-five years over what she knew about Peter and his promises.

Finally, after what seemed an interminable amount of time by Peter's estimate, she sighed. "I think I will need more time to fully accept everything, Peter…but I believe you. As you pointed out, you have never lied to me before, and why you would start now over something that is so important doesn't make sense." He let out his relief in a slow, controlled breath, resisting the urge to catch her up in his arms and kiss her. While she might believe his story, at the moment it was clear that she wouldn't welcome such a gesture from him. Her eyes stayed fixed on his. "What happened between us has hurt me deeply, Peter. It will take time for me to trust you…to love you…again."

Her words stabbed at his heart, but he understood. After everything that she had been through, there was only so quickly she could adjust to their changed situation. Neither of them were truly the same people that they had been before Peter and his siblings had returned to England, and he logically couldn't expect to simply pick up where they left off. At least, that was what his mind was telling him. His heart knew the truth, and it was hard to silence it for the time being. He wanted nothing more than to embrace what Aslan had told him on the day of his wedding – that it was the heart, and not logic, that led to the truth.

But Krisalyn's heart had been sorely damaged by his perceived abandonment, and they were equals in this relationship. While he wanted nothing more than to show her just how much he still loved her, to convince her until she had no further doubts, it simply wouldn't work in that fashion, and he knew it.

Reaching out, he caught her hand in his and gently ran his thumb over the back of it, before he raised it to his lips and kissed it. "I understand, Krisalyn. I only hope that I will get the opportunity when this is over to convince you, and to help you regain your trust in me." He looked between his wife and his daughter. "I love both of you so much. If I could change anything about what happened, I would, but that power doesn't lie within my ability. All I can – all I _will_ – do is give you the time you've asked for."

He rose slowly to his feet and looked between them again. "I'm sorry, but I have to go now and assist in the defense of the How." Aislynn nodded in understanding, and after a moment, so did Krisalyn, although her eyes reflected her hurt that he was choosing to leave again. This was the issue of trust that she had mentioned. Always in their relationship, Peter had placed Narnia first, as was his duty as High King. Most of the time, that had been acceptable to Krisalyn, because she had known when she married him that his responsibilities would always rest first with Narnia and then with her and their children.

But now, after meeting again twenty-five years after his apparent abandonment – whether he truly did or not, seeing him leaving again was enough to bring those hurts back to the surface before she could prevent them. Peter saw them and immediately moved to comfort her. He knelt at her feet – a privilege he never granted anyone save Aslan – and looked up at her as he took her hand again.

"Remember my promise, Krisalyn," he whispered. "I _will_ return, but Narnia is facing peril unlike any it has known before. I am needed."

She took a deep breath and slowly expelled it. "I know. Go, Peter. I will wait."

It was what she had always done, she reflected as Peter kissed her hand again and rose to his feet and strode out of the room. She would wait, and watch, and hope. There would be time later to tell him the truth…to tell him that she wouldn't be able to wait for much longer.

"Mother?" Aislynn asked after Peter left the room. "What is it?"

"It's always been that way between us, daughter. I have always been second to your father, because his duty comes first." She looked at her daughter, who was more like her father than she probably realized. "But you know as well as I do that I won't be able to wait forever."

"The healers?"

"Have done all they can," Krisalyn admitted. She had seen them just before Aislynn's message had reached Anvard, which was why she had been so adamant about accompanying the Archenland forces to the How. "I'm running out of time, Aislynn. Now, my life rests solely in Aslan's paws."

***ducks and runs from crazed mob of loyal readers* Don't kill me...and don't forget to review! Your encouragement is what inspires me!**


	20. Chapter 19: Betrayals

**_I hope everyone likes this chapter! Undoubtedly, some of you will notice some changes from the movie version, so I hope you like my take on things better. Don't forget to read and review!_**

_**Chapter Nineteen: Betrayals**_

"_I'm not the one who abandoned Narnia!"_

"_You invaded Narnia. You have no more right to lead it than Miraz does. You… him… your father… Narnia's better off without the lot of you!"_

The words tore through Caspian's mind over and over again. The expression of pure rage on King Peter's face when he spoke them continually hovered in front of his mind. He couldn't believe the younger man's gall when he screamed those words at Caspian. King Peter knew nothing of Caspian's father. He had no right to judge him as worthless.

Caspian had come so close to taking a swing at Peter and cutting the High King down. He had no doubt that he would most likely have died in the attempt, but he would have had the satisfaction of seeing the man who had besmirched his father – who had besmirched _him_ - die as well. The anger and the rage he had felt as he held his sword mere inches from the High King's throat confused him, because he had never considered himself a violent man. He was a soldier… a prince. He would kill in battle to save his life or to defend someone who was innocent, but before the previous night, he would never have killed a man in cold blood, the way he had wanted to with his uncle and now with Peter.

Caspian sighed and rested his forehead against the cool stone of the wall outside the chamber where the High King's other siblings and the Archenland rulers were meeting to discuss plans to defend the How. He knew he should be in there with them – King Edmund had invited him to join them, but Caspian didn't dare. He didn't know where he stood with the other King and Queens, and not knowing if they agreed with or would follow through on their royal brother's decree had kept him back. He'd been betrayed too many times to want to risk it again.

But what had gone wrong? Not even a day ago, Caspian would have been willing to swear that he considered the two Narnian Kings friends. He'd never had any real friends other than Doctor Cornelius, so he wasn't sure if that was really what they were, but the two Kings had listened to him, and consulted him before making plans. They had trusted him to help bring their people to freedom again, and in such a short time, he and the High King were at each other's throats.

All he wanted to understand was why. What had happened between them?

Caspian pushed himself away from the wall and headed off down the passageway, not really going anywhere in particular, just wanting to be alone to think. He was still determined to fulfill his promise to the Narnians, and if he had any chance of doing so, he needed to discover what had caused the conflict between himself and the Kings and Queens.

He thought back to the events of the previous day. There had been the first sign of conflict between them when they were meeting to discuss an offensive against the Telmarines. It wasn't until King Peter had suggested a raid on the castle that Caspian had begun to question the High King's decision. Caspian knew how paranoid his uncle was, and knew that it would be impossible to sneak in and capture Miraz without being caught.

It had been odd watching the Narnians consent to follow High King Peter's plan. The way that they had suddenly looked to him and his siblings as their leaders, when he had been leading them for almost a week before their arrival. It had felt…like another betrayal. First his uncle – which wasn't really that surprising – then General Glozelle, who had instructed him in tactics and weapons work for most of his life, then the rest of the Council, who did nothing to stop his uncle, and now the Narnians, whom he was trusting to help save his life even as he worked to give them back their kingdom.

All he'd ever wanted was to fulfill his duty by becoming the King of Narnia – claiming his birthright as the son of Caspian the Ninth. To that end, he had studied hard with Doctor Cornelius and General Glozelle, learned the protocols of court and the laws of the kingdom, waiting for the day when he would turn eighteen and be legally old enough to assume the crown that his uncle and the council were holding in care for him.

Was all of this simply due to the fact that Caspian was tired of people turning on him? Could that be the reason that he had snapped at King Peter? Caspian hated to think that he could be so petty, but he knew he at least had to consider it.

As he approached a cross-corridor, he spotted King Peter moving in the opposite direction and he paused, not wanting the younger boy to see him. Oddly enough, King Peter's steps seemed lighter, and he carried himself more proudly, as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Even in the dim light of the torches that lined the passageway, Peter's blue eyes sparkled and a small smile was on his face.

What was going on? When he had seen King Peter just a short time ago, the younger boy had been first angry at Caspian, and then completely shell-shocked when the dark-haired woman who had arrived with the Archenlanders had slapped him full across the face.

He waited until King Peter was out of sight, before he continued on his path, still trying to figure out the change that he had seen in the High King. He truly didn't understand it, and when added to his previous confusion about the confrontation between them, it was enough to give him a splitting headache. There was too much going on here for him to cope with. This was never something that the professor or Glozelle had taught him about ruling a country.

Light reflected off a burst of color on the walls of the passage and he turned to see what it was. A moment later, he realized that it was the painted images that told Narnia's history during the reign of the Kings and Queens. The image that had caught his eye was of the four of them standing beside their thrones, crowns gracing their heads, joy and excitement on their faces. He reached out and allowed his fingers to brush over the image of King Peter. How could he fix this? How could he convince the High King of his sincerity and his loyalty to Narnia?

"Are you so glad of that magic horn now, boy?" Nikabrik's sneering tones pierced the quiet of the passageway. Caspian turned to look at the Black Dwarf as Nikabrik continued. "Your Kings and Queens have failed us. Your army's morale is gone. Your uncle is on his way, and soon enough we'll all be dead." He stepped closer to Caspian.

"What do you want? Congratulations?" Caspian snarled. He wasn't in the mood to listen to Nikabrik's taunting. He knew the dwarf would have been much happier if the Narnians had killed him rather than joining him. As of late, Nikabrik had been relatively quiet on the matter, which Caspian considered a small miracle.

"You want your uncle's blood? So do we." Nikabrik's face was twisted into a sinister look as he mentioned Miraz. "You want his throne? _We_ can get it for you." The dwarf moved past the prince, heading down the tunnel in the direction of the Stone Table.

Caspian hesitated, wondering what the dwarf could possibly mean. Even though he disagreed with King Peter about the best way to handle the situation, he had no doubt that the Kings and Queens had Narnia's best interests at heart, or they wouldn't have agreed to offer their assistance with the rebellion.

But perhaps…

After another moment of indecision, Caspian followed Nikabrik down the corridor. Perhaps the dwarf had an idea about how they could end this war…something that he could bring to King Peter and his siblings that would restore their faith in him so that he could fulfill his promise to the Narnians. He didn't know why the Kings and Queens approval meant so much to him – after all, they had just denied his right to claim his birthright. By all rights, he should want nothing to do with them anymore.

But there was something about the way the four monarchs held themselves and interacted with their people and their allies that made him want to gain their approval – that made him want to learn everything that he could from them, so he could fulfill his promise – so he could be the same kind of king that everyone claimed his father and grandfather had been.

***********************************************************************

"Oh, Mother…" Aislynn embraced her mother tightly when the older woman told her the news. It was something that they had dreaded hearing from the healers for several years now, and something that they had tried everything they could to prevent.

It was because of Krisalyn's current situation that she didn't understand why her mother was so cautious about trusting her father. If Peter knew…Aislynn had no doubt that he would do everything in his power to help. According to all the stories about her father and his siblings, they never gave up, even when things seemed to be hopeless, and they always managed to come through the storm.

"I'm all right, Aislynn," Krisalyn whispered as she returned her daughter's hug. They stayed that way for several more seconds before Aislynn finally pulled back, somewhat reluctantly.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I wish I could stay here with you and fill you in on everything that has happened, but I will be needed in the planning council."

"You're not going to fight in the battle?!" Krisalyn asked, her voice tight with fear and mild panic racing across her face at the thought of her only child fighting for her life. Aislynn knew where her mother's fear was coming from. Yes, she had been trained by Oreius how to fight with sword, dagger, bow, and staff, but standing on a training field, learning to defend oneself wasn't the same thing as picking up a blade and fighting off an army.

"I don't know, Mother," Aislynn replied honestly. "If Father and the others need me, I certainly will, but I don't think that anything has been decided yet." She hesitated for a moment. "You should come to the meeting Mother. You're a Queen of Narnia, you have every right to be there."

Krisalyn smiled weakly and shook her head. "I'm afraid not, darling. This falls under your father and his siblings' area of expertise. Under all the laws of Narnia established by Aslan, the rule of the country is in the hands of the four of them. I don't rule in my own name and right as they do."

"I don't understand," Aislynn said with a frown. "Aslan crowned you Queen of Narnia."

"I'm a Queen of Narnia by marriage to your father, Aislynn. Aslan's law states that Narnia is to be ruled by the four. They are the ones who sit in judgment and it is they who pass the laws and decrees that govern Narnia. I only assumed the full burden of rule after they disappeared because I was the sole remaining Queen, and Narnia needed a monarch. While your father and his siblings ruled, my responsibilities were more on the domestic side. I acted more as a representative for them, but I never took over Peter's place in Court. Now that they've returned, my title is more ceremonial than anything."

She smiled at her daughter. "Go on, dear heart. You can act where I cannot, because you are Narnia's heir. I'll find something that I can do to help the Narnians while you help to make the plans."

"Are you sure, Mother?" Aislynn asked, and Krisalyn nodded, shooing her off to assist her father. Aislynn hugged her again before heading for the corridor. She turned back to look at Krisalyn who had closed her eyes wearily and appeared to be deep in thought. Aislynn ached to stay with her mother and support her, but now wasn't the time. She would be needed in the planning session.

Turning, she headed down the corridor back towards the planning room that they had set up a few days before, thinking about her parents' relationship. She didn't know what – if anything – she could do to help them, and it hurt. Everything was so confused. She had finally "met" her father, and she knew without a doubt that he loved her and her mother, but her mother was still hurting from being abandoned by Peter. On a larger scale, the assault against the Telmarines had failed, Caspian had been effectively disinherited by her father, and the Telmarines were moving for a final strike against the Narnians. They were outnumbered, even with the extra aid that her cousins had brought from Archenland, and there was no sign of Aslan.

Voices ahead of her caught her attention and she slowed, recognizing Caspian and Nikabrik. She was trying to decide how to address the prince. She had started to form a friendship with him over the last week of working together to help the Narnians, and she admired him for his bravery. He was kind and quiet, almost painfully shy, actually, and she found it rather endearing. Now, with the situation between Caspian and her father – and the way that she had supported her father over Caspian during the confrontation outside – she wasn't sure how he would react to her.

"You want your uncle's blood? So do we. You want his throne? We can get it for you," Nikabrik was saying.

Aislynn frowned. What was that all about? Her father and the others were already working on a plan to stop Miraz. Nikabrik didn't have the authority to act without the approval of her father and his siblings. Who else was he talking about?

"What do you mean?" Caspian's voice asked, drawing closer, along with the sound of two sets of footsteps on the stone of the passageway. Aislynn hesitated for a moment, and then ducked into a small room off to her left, waiting until the footsteps passed her by. Once she heard them round the corner, she moved out of the room. For a moment, she paused. Should she follow them and see what they were up to? Caspian was already on thin ice with her father, after all. Or should she go straight to the meeting and tell someone?

_Tell them what? That I heard Nikabrik and Caspian talking in the corridor?_ Aislynn let out a frustrated sigh before turning and following the dwarf and the prince down towards the Stone Table. There was no law that said Caspian couldn't talk to Nikabrik, but something was telling her that there was more to this encounter. She didn't like the tone that Nikabrik had been using, nor his choice of words.

She followed them silently through the passageway, down to the chamber that held the Stone Table. Nikabrik had yet to answer Caspian's question, and Aislynn hovered outside the chamber, listening. She wasn't comfortable with the idea that she was spying on Caspian, but she had never really cared for Nikabrik. The Black Dwarf had always seemed bitter and angry to her. At the time, she had blamed it on the fact that he was angry with the Telmarines, and that Caspian was a Telmarine. But now…

"You tried one ancient power. It failed. But there is a power greater still. One that kept even Aslan at bay for near a hundred years."

Aislynn stifled a sharp gasp as she realized what Nikabrik was speaking of. There weren't that many ancient powers in Narnia, and the only one with the distinction associated with a hundred years was the White Which and her Hundred Year Winter. The same witch who had been defeated by Aislynn's father and his siblings.

She had to tell him! She turned, intending to race up to the room where her father was working with her mother's cousins, when a low, ominous growl froze her in her tracks. The sound of Caspian drawing his sword made her turn back and peer around the corner, into the room holding the Stone Table.

A dark cloaked figure was moving out from the corner of the room, a hood pulled over it's head but not fully concealing the pointed snout that extended beyond the edge of the fabric. The growling was coming from it.

"I am hunger. I am thirst. I can fast a hundred years and not die. I can lie a hundred nights on the ice and not freeze. I can drink a river of blood and not burst. Show…me…your enemies!" The hood was flung back, revealing the scarred visage of a werewolf.

A second figure, this one unmistakably a hag, was moving toward Caspian from the other side of the room. "What you hate, so will we. No one hates better than us," she cackled.

Caspian was quiet for a moment, before he looked between the three creatures. "And you can…guarantee Miraz's death?"

_Caspian! You fool!_ Aislynn couldn't wait any longer. She didn't know what these creatures had in common, but she couldn't let it happen. Turning again, she raced up the passage, grateful for the soft soles of her shoes, which made no sound on the stone. She had to reach her father and his siblings. They were the only ones who could put a stop to this. She had a horribly sick feeling that it had something to do with the Witch. Caspian simply didn't know enough about Narnia's history to understand what he was getting into, associating with Fell Creatures.

She sped through the passageways, towards the room where the council was meeting, wishing that it was closer to the Stone Table so that they would have more time to get back. She picked up the skirts of her dress and moved faster. She had to reach her father.

Voices ahead caught her attention, and she recognized her father's ringing tones. _Almost there!_ She tore around the final corner and sprinted into the room, causing several people to reach for their weapons.

***********************************************************************

Peter entered the room where his siblings were meeting with the rest of the war council. Parchments spread across the table showed that they were hard at work. He moved towards his siblings, sending a smile at Edmund when his brother slid out of the way to make room for him and the head of the table.

"I apologize for being late," Peter said during a lull in the conversation. "Thank you for your patience."

"You're right on time, Peter," Lucy assured him. "We were discussing ways that we could neutralize Miraz's cavalry, since Doctor Cornelius has indicated that they're the strength of the Telmarine army."

Peter studied the parchments in front of them. "Before the raid last night, we had discussed the possibility of utilizing the cave system of the How to give us the chance to run a flanking maneuver. Does anyone have any ideas about how we might accomplish that?"

Cor and the rest of the council studied the maps of the How's cavern system. After a moment, Corin indicated one area in particular. "These run directly under the ruins and the field outside the How, don't they?" When he received a nod from Glenstorm, he continued. "What if we crafted exit ramps…say…here and here," he pointed out two places on the map, about halfway between the ruins and the forest. "If we could stop their charge somehow – perhaps a volley from the archers?" He glanced at Susan and Trumpkin. "If we could stop them in the right place and get a charge of our own going through the caverns, our forces could come up the ramps and hit them from behind before they have a chance to build their momentum back up."

"Our archers are limited. Depending on the size of the cavalry, we might not have enough archers in place to bring them to a full halt," Susan pointed out. "We may need to find another way that we can be certain will stop them."

They debated the issue for another few minutes before agreeing on a plan that they were certain would stop the cavalry in their tracks and allow them to use a powerful flanking maneuver. It would take some careful coordination but they were all confident that it would work.

Before they could continue, however, Aislynn burst through the doorway, her skirts hiked up as she sprinted into the room. "Father!" she called.

Everyone in the room reached for their weapons out of instinct, before Peter realized who it was. "Aislynn?" he asked, sheathing his sword and gesturing to his siblings to put theirs away as well. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Aislynn has stopped abruptly to keep from running into the table, and she was panting as she tried to catch her breath from the mad dash. "Father, you need to come quickly! The Stone Table! The…the White Witch!"

All four Pevensies, as well as the Narnians, paled. "What about the Witch?" Edmund demanded. "She's been dead for over forty years."

"Nikabrik is at the Table with a Hag and a Werewolf," Aislynn told him. "They've convinced Caspian that they can help him get Miraz. Nikabrik was talking about the Witch…I don't think Caspian knows what they have planned!"

Peter nodded abruptly, a scowl on his face. "Edmund, Trumpkin, come with me!" he snapped. He ran around the table and sprinted towards the door, his brother and the dwarf right behind him. Aislynn picked up her skirts again and started to go after them, despite calls from Cor, Corin, and Oreius for her to stay put. As she ran along the corridor, she realized Lucy was right beside her.

They had to get there on time. They couldn't let the Witch return.

***********************************************************************

"Let the circle be drawn!" the ugly old woman hissed.

Nikabrik moved to stand on the lowest step of the Stone Table, while the werewolf circled Caspian, drawing a line in the dirt with his claw as the woman chanted, the chant building in intensity once the circle was closed.

From inside her robes, the woman pulled out a wand that appeared to be made of silver and crystal. She held it high as she continued to chant, her voice rising before she suddenly spun and drove the wand into the steps leading up to the trilithion that framed the image of Aslan.

At the point of impact there was a flash of white before ice began spreading across the floor and up the sides of the stone until a solid sheet of ice had filled the vacant space between the upright stones. The circle around him was glowing with the same ice-white light. A moment later, Caspian realized that he was very cold. His breath was coming out in little puffs of frost, and it was all he could do not to shiver.

A shadowy image began to form as Caspian watched, and a moment later he could make out the features of a tall, regal woman with icy eyes and long hair that floated around her as if she was underwater. She was trapped within the slab of ice, and everything about her was cold and haughty.

_An ancient power…kept Aslan at bay…the White Witch!_ Caspian's thoughts were in a whirl as he realized who he was looking at. He didn't know much about Narnia's history, but his professor had stressed, time and time again, just how evil the Witch was and how she had been defeated by High King Peter and his siblings.

"Wait," Caspian gasped, his eyes fixed on the Witch. He started to back up, out of the circle. "This isn't what I wanted." The werewolf seized him in an iron grip, holding his hand out toward the Witch, keeping his claws pressed into Caspian's wrist to force his hand open.

"One drop of Adam's blood and you free me," the Witch said, her tone soothing and sounding as if it came from a great distance. "Then I am yours, my king."

The hag stepped forward with a sharp knife and quickly drew it across Caspian's palm, slicing his hand open. Blood welled up in his palm. "No!" he fought to get free, but he couldn't fight the werewolf's strength.

The Witch reached out and her hand slipped through the ice as she reached for Caspian. Her icy eyes were locked on his and Caspian suddenly wondered why he was resisting. Having the Witch on his side…that was a power that his uncle would never be able to counter. She had been defeated once…surely once she had seen to it that his uncle was dead, he could kill her again. After all, if High King Peter had been able to kill her when he was younger than Caspian and had never held a sword before, surely Caspian, who had been training since he was old enough to swing a blade, would be able to kill her just as easily.

He stepped forward slightly, and the werewolf released him as the Witch stretched out further. She wasn't invincible, and he had the Narnians…they had stopped her once, they could stop her again. His blood would allow him to command her, so she wouldn't even have a chance to subjugate Narnia to an eternal winter again.

Yes…it would be a great help to have the Witch on their side.

"Stop!"

***********************************************************************

Peter didn't know why he was so worried. Aslan had killed Jadis forty years ago. Dead was dead. There was no power in Narnia that could resurrect her – there was no power that could resurrect the dead.

But something about the very idea filled him with dread. Aislynn knew the stories about the Witch – she had to know how much the subject bothered he and Edmund. She wouldn't joke about this. But if there was a way that the Witch could be brought back, how had Nikabrik learned of it? Why had Aslan not warned them that it could happen?

He sprinted along the corridor leading towards the Stone Table, sensing that Edmund was right behind him. Edmund had more reason than anyone to fear the Witch. After all, she had tricked him, abused him, turned him against his family, and nearly killed him when she stabbed him on the battlefield at Beruna. He glanced over at his brother, seeing the pale features, the dread at the idea of confronting her again. As experienced and wise a King as Edmund was, he was once again twelve years old – the same age he'd been when he and the Witch last crossed paths.

As they drew close to the chamber, Peter realized something was wrong and felt his stomach sink. The light in the chamber should have been a warm gold, and instead it was a strange combination of gold and shivering silver, as if the silver was trying to suppress the gold. The air suddenly felt cooler than it should, even considering how deeply underground the Table was.

And…somehow, it made sense that the Stone Table would be the place where the Witch could return. It had been the scene of the ultimate battle between Aslan and Jadis. Jadis had thought that she had won on the night before Beruna, when she had taken Aslan's life with her black stone knife. But Aslan had broken through the bonds of death, his act of sacrifice for Edmund enough to allow him to turn back the Deep Magic and bring her triumph to an end.

They hurried around the last corner, so they were able to look into the Stone Table chamber, and Peter's mouth went dry with dread. In the center of the stone trilithion that framed the image of Aslan, a slab of ice had formed, and inside the ice was the image of the Witch. Her hand was reaching though the ice towards Caspian, who was actually reaching back towards her.

For a moment, Peter couldn't breathe. Caspian really couldn't be that ignorant, could he?

Or was he not ignorant, but truly betraying them because of his anger at Peter from earlier?

After a moment, he found his voice. "Stop!"

The Fell Creatures all turned at the sound of his voice. Peter drew his borrowed sword from its sheath – again missing the familiar weight and heft of Rhindon – hearing Trumpkin and Edmund drawing their weapons as well. They had to get to Caspian and stop him. If the Witch was brought back…

The werewolf leaped on top of the Stone Table and crouched, ready to spring, just as Edmund and Peter reached it. Nikabrik immediately headed for Trumpkin, who moved off to the left. The Hag was heading around the Table from the opposite side. Peter glanced and Edmund, who gestured towards the Hag. "Go, Peter! I've got this!" He swung at the werewolf, engaging it's attention.

The werewolf leapt over Edmund's head and the younger King spun around, ready to do battle. Peter's attention was drawn to the Hag, as he swung at her head, and he had to focus on his own battle.

***********************************************************************

Aislynn and Lucy hurried into the chamber right after Edmund, Trumpkin, and Peter began fighting. They both hovered in the entry, watching, looking for someway to help.

Nikabrik and Trumpkin were fighting it out, swords clanging. They appeared to be evenly matched, so Aislynn concentrated on her father and her uncle. Edmund was clashing with a werewolf, who had just leapt over his head and was preparing to spring again. Edmund charged the beast, but the werewolf was ready for him. He grabbed Edmund around the middle and flipped him to the ground, leaping over him at the same time.

It turned out to be a poor move, because as Edmund fell, his sword went wild and slashed a deep gash in the werewolf's leg at the moment it leapt, making it howl in outrage and pain.

Aislynn's attention went over to her father as she heard him grunt. He had just swung at the Hag's head, and the Hag had ducked the blow, grabbing Peter's arm and twisting it, causing him to drop his sword, which clattered to the floor next to the Table.

"No!" Lucy cried, running further into the room and heading, not for Peter or Edmund, but for Trumpkin, who was on the ground in front of Nikabrik. The Black Dwarf was poised to stab his friend, but Lucy scooped up Trumpkin's fallen sword and grabbed Nikabrik from behind, holding the blade at his throat and making him drop his own.

Unfortunately, the Dwarf was stronger, and he twisted free of her grip, before twisting her arm behind her back. Lucy cried out in pain as he wrenched the sword free from her grasp and shoved her aside, causing her to sprawl on the dirt and stone floor.

Aislynn wasn't sure if she could help. She wasn't even carrying a dagger at the moment, and trained as she was in different fighting forms, she was hesitant to get involved in a fight when she had no weapon. A grunt drew her attention back to her father, who had wrestled the Hag to the floor and managed to get his legs between them, even though he was on his back. He kicked out, hard, and the Hag went flying, slamming into one of the stone uprights that ringed the Table. She dropped and didn't move any further.

This was something she could do! Aislynn hurried forward and scooped up her father's sword. As he rose to his feet, she tossed the sword at him, hilt first. He snatched it, before his eyes went wide. "Aislynn, move!"

She spun and saw the werewolf charging at her. She grabbed her skirts and tried to spin out of the way, but the werewolf's claws caught in her long skirt and tripped her, sending her to the floor. The monster loomed over her, it's foul breath right in her face.

Her uncle suddenly came between them, slashing at the monster and driving it back. He regained it's attention before he turned and ran for a slab of rock that was lying on the ground. The werewolf pursued him, and he leapt into the air, using the stone as a vault. He spun in mid-air, his sword flashing down, intercepting the leaping werewolf and cleaving it's head from it's neck while they were still airborne.

Peter ran over to her and helped her to her feet. "Are you all right, daughter?" he asked, panting for breath.

"I'm fine! Get Caspian!" she told him, pushing him away, towards where the Witch was still trying to touch the prince's hand. Her father cast one last look at her, before he turned and ran for the far side of the Table.

Aislynn looked around and saw Edmund regaining his feet, while Lucy was being threatened by Nikabrik, who was stalking her with the sword he'd taken from her while she tried to scramble backwards, away from him. He moved as if to stab her, only to freeze as Trumpkin came up behind him, Nikabrik's sword held in his hand before the blade ran the Black Dwarf through.

Aislynn and Edmund hurried over and helped Lucy to her feet. She didn't give them a chance to find out how she was as she turned towards the Witch.

"Come on! Come!" the Witch called, within inches of touching Caspian's hand.

"Get away from him!" Peter cried, stepping into the circle and knocking Caspian away. The High King pointed his sword at the Witch, who drew back, contemplating the change.

"Peter, dear," Jadis said, a sinister smile on her face. "I've missed you."

"We have to stop this!" Aislynn whispered tensely.

"Peter can handle her," Lucy assured her. "He won't fall for her trick."

Edmund shook his head in denial. "Peter's been under a lot of stress lately. She might be able to convince him."

"You think so little of my father?" Aislynn asked, looking between her uncle and her aunt.

"No, I don't think poorly of him at all," Edmund said, disregarding her comment about being Peter's daughter. "But I know the Witch better than he does. She nearly had me convinced that she would be helpful, and I had been under a lot less strain than Peter has been." He looked around before heading off. "I'll take care of it."

"Come. Just one drop." The Witch reached out towards him. To Aislynn's horror, Peter actually seemed to be wavering.

***********************************************************************

The instant that Peter stepped into the circle to knock Caspian away, he knew he'd made a mistake. With the Witch's attention off of Caspian, she brought all her malevolent power and beauty to bear on him.

An icy cold swept over him and he shivered, feeling his breath chilling even as he breathed it in, and expelling a cloud of vapor each time he exhaled. The ice seemed to invade every inch of him, and his eyes were fastened on Jadis. He tried to blink, to look away from her, but her power was mesmerizing and intense.

"Come. Just one drop," Jadis coaxed him, and he felt a trickle of blood running slowly down his temple from his fight with the Hag. How easy it would be to wipe it off and then touch her hand…to bring back a power that could save Narnia once and for all.

_NO! Don't think that! I know what she is, what she almost did to Edmund…what she did to Aslan…she's evil!_ His thoughts pummeled him and he almost shook his head, feeling her grip on him receding.

"You know you can't do this alone." Her voice pierced his thoughts, soft and gentle sounding.

Those words froze his soul and doubts began to creep in. Was she right? Could he save Narnia this time? He had so much that was weighing him down. If Susan hadn't been there last night, he probably would have ordered the attack despite the alarm having been sounded. He hadn't wanted to give up when they had a perfect opportunity to end the war.

Even more…what about Krisalyn and Aislynn? By fighting the Telmarines, he was endangering his wife and daughter.

_Aslan's eyes pierced him as he looked at the lion. He felt Krisalyn's hands in his, her gentle grip reassuring him of her commitment to him. Her words had been heart-felt and had touched his soul. Now he looked to Aslan, waiting._

_After a moment, the lion spoke. "High King Peter, you have chosen to bind yourself to Lady Krisalyn and claim her as your wife. Will you remain true to her, in all the trials and blessings that your lives may bring, and use your love for her to enrich both your lives to the fullness of your ability? Will you cherish her and her love and use all your strength to protect her?"_

He had failed in his vows, he realized. He had stayed true to her, and loved her…but he hadn't protected her. He had abandoned her, and because he had not been there, her protection had been placed in Oreius' hands, and she had been forced to flee and live in exile. Now she had come back…and she and his daughter were both in danger. If they lost this battle, and the Telmarines made it through…he didn't know what they would do. Would they simply kill Krisalyn and Aislynn? Would they be taken by the Telmarines and tortured before they were killed?

If he couldn't even fulfill his wedding vows to the person he loved most, how could he possibly hope to defend Narnia? He and Caspian were at odds, he'd pushed his siblings away in his grief and worry, their allies doubted their identities, and the Narnians weren't sure if they should support Caspian or he and his siblings. There had been no word from Aslan…

_I really can't do this alone…Aslan, why haven't you come? Why did you do this to us? You told me that our subjects were your family, that day on the hill above the camp. You said that all you wanted was for them to be safe…but now they are in more danger than ever, and you're not here to help._

Slowly, he lowered his borrowed sword, barely registering the movement. What did it matter? He had failed in his duty as High King…the Narnians were badly over-run…Aslan had abandoned them…

***********************************************************************

All Edmund could think about was the deep clenching in his stomach as he gazed at the Witch. She had done so much to turn him against his siblings…she had nearly killed him twice. She was the last person he had ever wanted to see again, yet here she was, her unearthly power and haughty demeanor making a lump of ice form in the pit of his stomach.

He had barely noticed his fight with the werewolf…it had been on instinct, mostly. His only real awareness had been the wolf's teeth…he couldn't allow himself to be bitten. All the rest of his attention had been on _her_.

Even after the werewolf lay dead at his feet, his attention had been on her. When Lucy and Aislynn had stepped up beside him, and Aislynn said that they needed to stop it, at first he had wanted to agree with Lucy. Peter was strong…he had never been intimidated by the Witch, and he had faced her bravely at Beruna.

But Edmund knew the truth. Peter wasn't thinking clearly. That was why he had been so angry at Caspian…all of the pressure on him…losing Krisalyn, going back to England, trying to resume his life there…then coming back to Narnia, having to convince the Narnians of their identity, trying to save their beloved country, coming face to face with Krisalyn and being rejected by her…

Peter wasn't in his right mind, and the Witch would play on that. Edmund knew her and her tactics all too well. She was manipulative and sinister.

The hand holding his borrowed sword twitched. Once, a long time ago, when he had been different, he would have told himself that he didn't care what happened to Peter. Then Aslan had rescued him…shown him that his thoughts were petty and below a King. He had become Edmund the Just, King of Narnia. His brother and sisters meant everything to him.

"No, I don't think poorly of him at all," Edmund replied in answer to Aislynn's question, barely registering her comment about being Peter's daughter. Now wasn't the time to think about that. "But I know the Witch better than he does. She nearly had me convinced that she would be helpful, and I had been under a lot less strain than Peter has been. I'll take care of it."

He _would_ take care of it. The Witch was a specter from _his_ past. He had tried once to defeat her, to end her existence in order to save Peter, and he had failed. The legacy of what she had done to him had haunted him for years. More than anything else, he wanted that legacy to be gone, one and for all.

Moving swiftly, while her focus was still on Peter, he headed to the far side of the room and circled around to the right. His sword was in his hands, and he was determined that this time, he would not come out for the worst when facing the Witch.

"You know you can't do this alone."

Those words stabbed him painfully and they weren't even directed at him. Once, he would have been happy to be alone – to be above his siblings and watching them serve him. But that was before Aslan had shown him the truth, before he had learned what it meant to be a ruler. He knew those manipulative words would affect Peter, given his older brother's state of mind at the moment.

He was behind the slab of ice now. At his back was the relief of Aslan, but it felt as if the lion was really there, giving him the strength to lay his demons to rest. Gripping the hilt of his borrowed sword in both hands, he raised it high above his head. "For Aslan," he whispered quietly, before he plunged the blade downwards, stabbing it right through the Witch's mid-section.

***********************************************************************

Caspian blinked and shook his head as King Peter shoved him out of the circle. He was dizzy and disoriented. What had just happened? He could feel warmth seeping back into him, and his hand was hurting fiercely.

He looked up and saw King Peter facing the Witch as she sought to sway him into releasing her from her icy prison. The High King – for the first time that Caspian had known him – looked truly shaken and uncertain. His sword trembled in his hand before he lowered it.

Caspian honestly didn't remember what had happened. He had been fighting to get free of the werewolf, and…his memory was blank from that moment on. He didn't remember anything that had happened from the time the hag had cut his palm until just now. He knew that King Peter must have been the one who shoved him out of the area of influence, given the way he currently looked, but other than that…

The tip of a blade suddenly appeared right through the ice and the Witch's abdomen. A cracking sound filled the air and huge cracked began appearing in the ice. The Witch looked absolutely shocked, and Peter suddenly blinked, freed from the spell she was weaving, the same confusion that Caspian was feeling showing on his face.

"Nooo!" the Witch screamed, just before the slab of ice shattered into a million pieces and tumbled to rest on the floor in front of the circle.

Caspian looked behind the ice and spotted King Edmund standing there, his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon, a shaken but pleased look on his face as he lowered his sword. The younger King stepped forward and looked at his brother seriously for a moment. "Are you all right, Peter?"

The High King looked badly shaken, as if he was just coming to the realization of what happened, but he nodded. "I'm fine, Ed…thanks."

The younger King turned to Caspian. "Are you all right, Prince Caspian?"

The use of his formal title stung. He had apparently lost a serious amount of ground with both Kings. He swallowed and managed to pull himself to his feet. "I'm fine, King Edmund."

Edmund nodded curtly and stepped closer to his brother. "Pete, we'll see you back in the council room?"

Peter nodded slowly. "In a few minutes, Edmund. I need to think about some things."

Lucy and Aislynn both stepped forward. "Peter…do you need one of us to stay?" the youngest Queen asked softly.

Peter shook his head. "No…thanks, Lu. I'll be there in a few minutes."

The others began filing slowly out of the room. Caspian hesitated for a moment, his eyes going to the relief of Aslan carved into the wall. The stone eyes looked down at him and for a moment, Caspian was willing to swear that the eyes were full of disappointment. The thought brought a sharp stab of pain to his heart.

But why did it matter to him? He had never had reason to believe in Aslan before, yet all of the Narnians swore by him. Why would his conscience be bothering him so much?

He had a lot to think about.


	21. Chapter 20: Years Alone

_Author's Note: I am on a roll today! This is the second story that I have posted for today! My muses are actually cooperating with me for once! Don't forget to review, because those keep them inspired! On another note, this chapter is a little bit different from previous chapters, because the entire chapter is a series of flashbacks. We'll be back to our regularly-scheduled story next time! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy!_

_**Chapter Twenty: Years Alone**_

_Twenty-five years ago…_

_**Krisalyn stood at the top of the stairs leading into the Cair, watching as her husband and his siblings readied their horses and gear for their hunt. Part of her wished that she was going with them, as she loved riding and the thrill of the chase. She could match any of the other four as a rider, and quite often she surpassed them.**_

_**The other part of her, however, knew that she was making the right choice by staying behind. After what had happened during her last pregnancy, she was taking no chances of doing anything that could endanger the baby. It was likely to be a very long eight months, since she was already a month along, but she would endure it for the sake of their child.**_

_**Peter hurried up the steps towards her, his face a mixture of excitement and concern. He had been shocked when she had told him earlier that she was expecting a child, but then he had been elated. It had taken some persuasion on her part to get him to agree to go with his siblings on the hunt, but she had succeeded, since she knew that he really did want to go, and he knew that there was nothing threatening Narnia or Cair Paravel, so there was no need to hover over her.**_

_**She embraced him warmly before sharing a kiss. That was one of the many things that she loved about this man. He loved her and he wasn't shy about showing it in front of other people. He was expressive with his feelings and a word or a touch could tell her volumes about what he was thinking or feeling.**_

_**He offered to stay with her again, but again she urged him to go, an urging that was shared by his siblings who were teasing him about holding them up. A final kiss between them heralded his departure, mounted on the back of his stallion.**_

_**Krisalyn stood watching as they rode out of the gates and off to the west. She turned to look at the topmost towers of the castle as the four banners were taken down. The banners were a visual indicator of which of the four were in residence at Cair Paravel at any given moment.**_

_**She looked back down the road to the west. She could still see the four of them, although just barely. Dark clouds were gathering on the horizon, and they were riding right towards them. A chill of fear raced down her spine. Something was very wrong. There shouldn't be dark clouds there.**_

_**Racing down the stairs, she called for her horse to be readied. The servants stared at her for a moment before leaping into action. Her fiery chestnut mare was quickly saddled and brought out. She leaped astride the mare and gave her rein, sending her galloping after Peter and the others.**_

_**The mare ran, her ears swept back, waiting for a command from her rider, her snorted breaths coming evenly, yet full of excitement as her hooves pounded the dirt. She stretched out, delighting in the joy of running as fast as she could.**_

_**For the longest time, it seemed that they were making no headway, that the clouds were pulling away from her. Krisalyn's mare was one of the fastest in the royal stables, but they didn't seem to be gaining any ground on Peter or his siblings. Finally, however, she saw the glint of sunlight on metal as it reflected off the fastenings on the horses' tack.**_

_**The clouds were darker and more ominous than ever now, and the air was colder – which made no sense as it was still late summer. The cold wouldn't begin setting in for at least three more months. Krisalyn urged her mare onward, fear strangling her – her one thought was to reach Peter and bring him back to Cair Paravel.**_

_**After what seemed an interminable journey, she spotted the four of them. They had slowed to a canter, and were laughing and teasing each other – apparently not even noticing the sound of galloping hooves from behind them, which was not like them at all. Her mare was beginning to slow, the fast pace of the run wearing on her, but Krisalyn urged her on. Just a little further and they wouldn't be able to ignore her.**_

"_**Peter!" she screamed as they drew closer and the knot of fear in her throat loosened enough for her to get the word out. "Peter, wait!"**_

_**At first she didn't think they had heard her, since they showed no signs of stopping. Then, slowly, Peter eased his stallion to a stop and turned in the saddle, his siblings following suit. He stared at her for a moment. "Krisalyn?"**_

"_**Peter, something's wrong!" she yelled, pulling her own mare up. "Please come back!"**_

_**All four of them looked puzzled. "Nothing's wrong, Krisalyn. We'll be back in a few days," Peter finally said, turning around again, almost dismissively. That wasn't normal for him.**_

_**The dark clouds were pressing all around them, but the other four didn't seem to notice. Krisalyn tried to urge her mare forward again, but the mare shied and refused. "Peter, please come back! Something isn't right! If you go, you won't come home!"**_

_**Peter turned again. "But that's where we are going, Krisalyn. We're going home. Narnia has no need of us anymore."**_

_**Krisalyn was shocked at the cold, uncaring note in his tone. His eyes were like ice chips. There was no emotion in them. "Peter, what are you saying?"**_

"_**Good-bye, Krisalyn." There was a note of finality in his voice. In it's wake, the ground seemed to tremble, spooking her mare, who reared and threw Krisalyn off.**_

"_**Peter, you can't abandon us!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet with a wince of pain. She tried to run after them, but the four of them vanished into the dark cloud, leaving her behind with the ground trembling under her feet, icy wind sweeping towards her, and thunder rumbling ominously.**_

"_**Peter!"**_

_Krisalyn sat bolt upright, the echo of the cry lingering on her lips and in the air._

_A moment later, the door crashed open, revealing Oreius, who charged in, sword drawn. His eyes were wild and his body was tense as he responded to his Queen's scream. "Your Majesty! What is it?!"_

_Krisalyn looked wildly around the room, and after a moment realized that she was sitting behind the desk in the study that she and Peter shared. A pile of correspondence was in front of her, and the piece of parchment in front of her bore a dark blot where she had dropped her quill._

_She took several deep breaths before she looked back at Oreius. "It was just a dream, General," she reassured the agitated Centaur, who sheathed his sword after a quick look around. "I must have dozed off while working on these letters."_

"_I am glad that you are well, Majesty," Oreius replied after a moment._

_But she wasn't. Not really. The dread and fear from her dream was still lingering. She didn't know what she could possibly be dreading. Peter wasn't overdue. They were expected back within two or three days, and if something happened that would require them to be gone longer, they would send word. They always did._

"_General…has there been any word from Peter's party?" Krisalyn asked, feeling silly at asking the question, but knowing that it needed to be asked. She didn't understand this lingering sense of dread. She'd had it since she'd watched Peter and his sibling depart a few days ago, but unlike in her dream she hadn't gone after them._

_Oreius looked at her curiously. "No, my Queen. As far as I know, Their Majesties are still scheduled to return within two days."_

_Krisalyn hesitated, weighing the request that she was about to make of Oreius against her feelings. Prophecy was very real in Narnia, but she had never had any type of premonition or foresight before. But the nagging fear that wouldn't go away…_

_She made up her mind. "General, this may be for naught, but I would like you to take a party of the Royal Guards and ride out to meet them. I have had a horribly bad feeling since they left. They might laugh at me about it later, but I don't care. I just have the sense that something is very wrong."_

_Oreius, normally logical and rational, didn't dismiss her concerns. He only straightened up and eyed her for a moment before nodding sharply. "I shall, Your Majesty. We will leave as soon as we can prepare, and I'll send out scouts to locate them."_

"_Thank you, General," Krisalyn said softly as the Centaur turned and moved out of her chambers. She looked around the familiar room, her eyes moving from her own pile of correspondence to the pile that belonged to Peter. Most of them were letters, although there were a few reports and trade agreements that he needed to look over and sign. How many hours over the last nine years had they spent together in this room, working together to ensure that the kingdom was running smoothly?_

_Peter had left so many times…why did this time feel so different?_

_Why did she feel like she would never see her husband and King again?_

_***********************************************************************_

_Several days later…_

_Trumpets caught Krisalyn's attention and she hurried to the courtyard in time to see Oreius returning with the guards he had sent out. Led by their reins behind the guards were the horses that Peter and his siblings had been riding, with the exception of Phillip, Edmund's Talking Horse friend, who was walking unescorted. The Kings and Queens themselves were nowhere to be seen._

"_General Oreius, what happened?" she breathed, as she hurried down the stairs towards the Centaur. Just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she caught sight of what Oreius was carrying in one hand._

_Rhindon._

_**Something has gone horribly wrong**__, she thought, horrorstricken. Peter never went anywhere without Rhindon. He wore it at Court, he trained with Oreius and Edmund every single day with the blade, and he always had it belted to his waist when he stepped outside Cair Paravel. It had even been around his waist the day they had married. Peter would never abandon his sword._

_Oreius' face was solemn as he bowed. "We found their horses abandoned in the middle of the woods, Your Majesty. There was no sign of them, and there was no sign they had taken any of their gear with them. All of their provisions are accounted for. It was as if they had simply vanished."_

_A cold, hard lump settled in her stomach and she slowly raised a hand to her mouth to try to stifle the cry of denial that wanted to burst free. She struggled to hold it in for a moment, before she got control of her voice again. "There was no sign of a struggle?"_

_The general shook his head. "No, my lady. The horses were ground tethered, so if Their Majesties dismounted, they did so of their own free will. The tracks went off into the woods and we followed them as far as we could before they just disappeared."_

_She swallowed hard. What was she supposed to do now? All her life, she'd been trained to leadership, if not of a country, than at least that of a household. But nothing in her training had ever prepared her for something like this. A cold chill ran through her at the thought._

_Every person in the courtyard was staring at her, waiting for her to make a decision about what to do next. Whatever she did in the next few minutes was going to be crucial. She was the only monarch that Narnia had who was capable of making decisions at the moment, but she wasn't really a true monarch of Narnia because of Aslan's law, which clearly stated that Peter and his siblings were the rulers of Narnia._

_She knew there had been whispers, both of jealousy and suspicion when she married Peter. The other women who had come from Galma, Archenland, and the Lone Islands had been jealous that she had won Peter's heart when they hadn't. The Narnians had been suspicious at first, because they had too much experience with the Witch…and she hadn't fought alongside them the way Peter and the others had. Over the last nine years, however, those whispers had all but vanished. But her actions now and in the near future could bring them back in force._

_She took a deep breath and prayed to Aslan that she was making the right choice. "Until we know more, we must assume they are still out there. We'll prepare search parties immediately. They must be found."_

_Apparently her decision was the right one, as murmurs of agreement came from everyone who was assembled. "General, I leave it in your hands to arrange the search parties. They wouldn't abandon their responsibilities or their people, so something must have happened to them. Find them. Bring them home."_

_Oreius bowed again. "Of course, Your Majesty." The Centaur turned to speak to the other guards and soldiers that had gathered around, barking out orders to mobilize the scouts and prepare supplies for the search parties._

_Krisalyn watched for a few minutes before she turned and headed back into the palace. She held her head high and tried to look as serene and calm as she should. The face she displayed to the Narnians is what would encourage them to keep their hopes high. Until Peter and the others were found, the burden of keeping the morale up fell on her._

_She headed up for the chambers that she shared with Peter. She had to maintain her façade until she was behind closed doors. Only then would she be free to react to the situation. Once she had closed and locked the door behind her, she moved through the rooms – past the sitting room, the study, the bathing chamber – and into their bedroom. She headed straight over to the dressing table and took a seat on the low bench in front of it._

_The face that stared back at her in the mirror was calm and seemingly unaffected by the news that her husband and his royal siblings were missing. She took a deep breath and allowed the formal expression to fall away. She closed her eyes for a moment. She couldn't break down completely._

_As she opened her eyes, her gaze shifted to rest on the small rack of necklaces that sat in one corner of the table. She reached out and brushed her hand over the newest addition – a pendant made of a large, flawless amethyst that had been skillfully carved in the shape of a rose. The slender stem and the leaves were made up of tiny emeralds that sparkled and caught the light. The pendant hung from a polished silver chain._

_The lump resettled in her throat. The pendant had been a gift from Peter less than a week ago when they had celebrated their ninth anniversary. He often gave her things made in purple and silver because the color matched her eyes and went well with her dark hair. Was this the last gift that he would ever give her?_

"_Peter, be safe," she whispered. "Come back to me…come back to us," she amended, resting her hand on her womb where the child that she was carrying was growing. Peter had been so happy about the baby…surely he would be here to raise it._

_He had to be. She couldn't imagine it any other way._

_***********************************************************************_

_**Eight months after the Pevensies' disappearance…**_

"_Your Majesty, the scouts from the Western Marches have reported back. There's no sign of Their Majesties." Oreius' face was set like stone as he related the most recent disturbing report from the scouts and search parties that were looking for the Kings and Queens._

_Krisalyn bowed her head for a moment, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She didn't understand how Peter and the others could have simply vanished. They had loved Narnia…they wouldn't have abandoned their duties or their people._

_Peter wouldn't have abandoned her._

_Her hand dropped to rest on her swollen womb. The baby was going to be due any time now. The first five months of this second pregnancy had filled her with fear. She had miscarried once, and after Peter's disappearance, she didn't know if she would be able to survive if she lost this second child. Once the fifth month had passed she had breathed a little easier, but fear had still held her in its grip, although the fear continued to ease with each day that passed without anything going wrong._

_Remembering that Oreius was still waiting for her to acknowledge his report, she looked up, blinking back the tears. "Understood, General. Thank you," she whispered the last. She didn't know what more she could do. Her role as Queen was mostly ceremonial, because of her marriage to Peter. She had been __**trained**__ to rule, since she had been the Crown Princess of Archenland before her marriage to Peter, but under the marriage contract that she and Peter had signed on their wedding day, she did not rule in her own right._

_Aslan's law stated that Narnia was meant to be ruled and governed by the Four who had saved Narnia – just as the prophecy had stated. Krisalyn could only act as a representative for her husband and his siblings, but she had no power to make decisions or to pass laws. She could act as regent for Peter, but only if he expressly declared her regent, and only with the agreement of all three of his siblings, and only under specific circumstances. Now, with all four ruling monarchs missing, Narnia was left in a bit of a bind._

_There was no one else who could step up to rule in their place. None of the other three monarchs had married, and there were no heirs other than the child that Krisalyn carried. Krisalyn and Peter's child would be able to legally ascend to the throne, but not until he or she was sixteen – the age that Peter had been when he took the throne. That meant that Narnia would be without their rulers for another sixteen years._

_Krisalyn sighed quietly. She didn't know what more she could do. Aslan hadn't answered their pleas for his aid, and Peter and the others had been missing for eight months. She hesitated to invoke what little authority she __**did**__ hold as Narnia's last remaining Queen, ceremonial title or not, since she had no idea what Aslan's plan was. Under the circumstances, would he permit her to step up as Narnia's sole ruler, even as regent for her child? Or did he expect the Council to rule until that time?_

_Would the Narnians even accept it? They had too much experience with a single ruler in the form of the Witch – and they hadn't forgotten the tyranny they had suffered because of it. Even though she had been accepted by the Narnians, that was when she was ruling by her husband's side. Now that he was gone, would she still be accepted?_

_The baby kicked her hard and she sucked in a startled breath. Whatever else, at least her child was strong. She firmed her resolve. Her child – Peter's child – __**would**__ be Narnia's next ruler. If that meant the she had to take on the burden and the full responsibility of ruling for her missing husband and his siblings…for the sake of their child, she would._

_She turned her focus away from Oreius for a moment. Raising her hand, she beckoned for a messenger. The silver tabby cat left the waiting group of pages and hurried over to her, leaping up onto a small platform that stood next to Krisalyn's chair for that purpose._

"_Yes, Majesty?" the cat purred softly._

"_I would like you to summon all the Council members to the hall," she said quietly. "I would like to address them as soon as possible."_

_The cat bowed. "Of course, Majesty. Right away." Leaping lightly from the platform, she shot out the door in search of the other Council members. Krisalyn knew it wouldn't take long. The other Council members had been living at Cair Paravel since the Kings and Queens had disappeared._

_Oreius gave her a thoughtful, canny look. "Your Majesty, what do you have in mind?"_

_Krisalyn regarded him for a moment. The tall Centaur was incredibly loyal once his allegiance was given. Ever since she and Peter had announced their betrothal and she had come to live at Cair Paravel while the wedding preparations were being made, Oreius had taken up the responsibility for seeing that she was protected, just as the four Kings and Queens were._

_In the last eight months, he had been acting as her own personal guard, as well as the army's general and a Council member. Oreius didn't play politics – he had no need to – but he understood very well __**how**__ to do it. He was one of the monarchs' most trusted advisors, and had been ever since they had first joined forces with Aslan to defeat the Witch._

_Krisalyn had no doubt that if she could convince him to back her plan, he would support her whole-heartedly. The question was, would he back her plan, or would his loyalty stay with Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy? She thought that she stood a fairly good chance of convincing him, since she was doing this to ensure that her child would be able to claim the throne one day._

"_General, I am going to need your help," she said slowly, as she rose to her feet with a modicum of difficulty. She rested her hands on the desk in front of her and leaned on them slightly._

"_I am at your service, Majesty," Oreius replied immediately._

_Krisalyn watched him for a long moment. "I am carrying Peter's child. The only blood-heir to the thrones of Narnia." She waited while he nodded. "Narnia cannot survive without her Kings and Queens, but I am the last remaining Queen of Narnia, even if my title was intended to be ceremonial. Aslan's law dictated that Narnia must have a monarch, and the Council, as wise as they are, cannot rule in the stead of our Kings and Queens. You've protected me for almost ten years, since I was betrothed to Peter. Now, I need to know. Will you support me if I step forward to claim the thrones as regent for my child? For Peter's child?"_

_Oreius eyed her thoughtfully as she held her breath, waiting for his decision. If she could win Oreius' support, she would have a much better chance of convincing the rest of the Council to appoint her regent. Oreius was the most senior of the Council members, the most respected by the others, and one of the most trusted by the Kings and Queens._

"_You intend to act only as regent?"_

_His question was not unexpected and she nodded. "I will act as Queen only until my child is old enough to claim Peter's throne. On his or her sixteenth birthday, I will step aside and hand the crown off to Peter's heir. If the Kings and Queens should return, I will step aside immediately." She met Oreius' dark eyes. "I am doing this out of necessity, Oreius. I want to ensure that Narnia's throne is still there for Peter's child to claim at the right time."_

_After another, very long moment while she waited for the Centaur's decision, he nodded. "My loyalty is to my Kings and Queens. All of them. High King Peter chose you as his wife, and Aslan crowned you as Queen in front of all of Narnia. That is enough for me. I will support you, my Queen, just as I support Kings Peter and Edmund and Queens Susan and Lucy."_

_Krisalyn breathed out a slow breath that was mingled in relief and gratitude. "Thank you, Oreius," she whispered softly._

_She needed to begin making her way down the Council chamber. It would take her longer because of her advanced pregnancy. She stepped around the desk and moved into the bedroom, over to the small chest where she and Peter kept their crowns. Opening it, she reached in and lifted out the silver crown that belonged to her. She simply held it for a moment, studying the white-gold lilies and the yellow-gold irises that decorated it._

_Being given this crown on the day of her wedding to Peter had been a symbol of the responsibility that she was taking on by becoming a Queen of Narnia, ceremonial title or not. For the last nine years, this crown had been symbolic and ceremonial. Unlike her husband and his siblings, she only wore her crown on formal occasions and holidays, so as not to cause undue confusion among the Narnians or their allies._

_She sighed softly and placed the circlet on her head, feeling the true weight of it for the first time. Not the physical weight of the silver and the gold, but the weight of the responsibility that she was taking on by stepping forward as the sole monarch until her child was old enough or Peter and his siblings returned._

_It was the weight of knowing that the Narnians – who had become her people – were going to depend on her. She would have to make the decisions that would keep them safe, that would see that their needs were provided for, that would judge them on their actions and see that justice was metered out when they wronged someone or were wronged in turn._

_At the same time, she would have to raise her child to have that same sense of compassion, understanding, justice, and leadership that Peter and his siblings had. Being a monarch was not about having a country full of servants to see to your every whim. It was about serving them, caring for them, and in turn, being able to call on them when you needed them. To exchange their devotion for your own._

_She looked at herself in the mirror for a long moment, taking in the sight of her grey velvet gown, her belly distended by the child she carried. The silver crown on her head sparkled in the light, and around her neck she had placed the amethyst rose necklace that Peter had given her._

_She was a Queen. Now it was time to claim the authority and the power that rank gave her._

_For her child._

_For Peter's child._

_***********************************************************************_

"_What are you saying?" Ratha, the Black Dwarf representative and the newest member of the Council demanded, aghast. "You would have us abandon our Kings and Queens?"_

_Krisalyn fixed the Dwarf with a dark stare. "Never. I would never abandon them. I love Peter more than anything in this world except his child that I carry. But we must be honest with ourselves. It has been eight months since they disappeared, and there has been no sign of them, and no response to our pleas from Aslan. Narnia cannot continue to function without a monarch. I am the last remaining Queen of Narnia, crowned by Aslan himself on my wedding day."_

"_But your title was intended to be ceremonial, Majesty," Tumnus pointed out quietly._

"_And I wish that it could remain so," she replied immediately. "But Narnia must have a monarch, and until my child is old enough to take the throne, I am the only possible ruler that Narnia has. Narnia cannot survive another sixteen years without a ruling King or Queen."_

_She rose slowly to her feet from where she had been seated at the head of the Council table. "Lords and Ladies of the Council…I do not like the state of affairs any more than you do. But like it or not, I __**am**__ royal by blood and by marriage. I was the Crown Princess of Archenland for the first twenty-two years of my life. I was trained to rule a country. I am the only one capable of seeing Narnia through the absence of our Kings and Queens."_

"_Aslan's law specifically states that his chosen four are to be Narnia's rulers," the Dryad representative, an Oak named Owain said in his steady, slow voice. "If we permit this, we are defying his laws."_

"_Aslan's law says nothing about what should be done if the Kings and Queens vanished," Krisalyn responded. " Since he has deemed not to answer our pleas, that tells me that he has a purpose for allowing Peter and his siblings to disappear." She softened her voice and her expression. "I am not looking to claim the throne for the remainder of my life. I seek only your approval to act as regent for Peter's heir until he or she turns sixteen. The marriage contract I signed does give me the authority to act as regent."_

"_With the approval of the other three monarchs and by High King Peter's express declaration," Giles Fox, the representative of the Talking Animals, stated. "We have none of those permissions."_

_A sharp report resounded in the room as Oreius stamped one hoof on the stone floor. "This bickering is pointless," the Centaur interjected, his black tail swishing violently. "Despite what the marriage contract or Aslan's law says on the matter, there is one fact that you are all forgetting."_

"_What would that be, General?" Tumnus asked, curiously._

"_Her Majesty was chosen by High King Peter as his bride, partner, and Queen," Oreius replied. "Aslan himself wed them, and approved the union. If Aslan did not approve of Her Majesty, he would not have permitted her to be named a Queen of Narnia, let alone done so himself. All four of our Kings and Queens accepted Queen Krisalyn. They did not leave instructions for the regency, because they were not planning on disappearing. If they had had any idea what would happen, they either would have left instructions, or they would have stayed here. This bickering is pointless. Queen Krisalyn has already sworn that she intends to step aside as Queen as soon as her child is old enough to claim King Peter's throne, and Narnia must have a monarch. That cannot be denied."_

_Krisalyn looked around the room at all of the familiar faces. "I know that you were badly hurt by the White Witch, and that you do not trust a single ruler to hold all of the authority of rule for Narnia," she said quietly. "I understand the mistrust and the fear. The voices on this Council will not be silenced just because I actively take on the burden of being Queen. But in the absence of Aslan's chosen, Narnia needs a single voice to unite all the different voices. Would it not be better to have a voice that was trained to do just that in that position, as well as one who was crowned by Aslan himself?"_

_There was silence from the Council as they considered this._

_It was Tumnus who broke the silence. "I see no reason why we should not agree to Her Majesty's plan. She is correct that Narnia needs a monarch. We are each here as the representative of our various races as well as the resources that Narnia offers. Do any of you honestly believe that we could come to a complete agreement on every topic that arose for our Kings and Queens?"_

_After a moment's hesitation, in which Krisalyn could see that there were some members of the Council who's prides wanted them to say yes, but practicality and a reluctance to accept the same level of responsibility that Peter and the other three monarchs had dealt with on a daily basis forced them to all shake their heads no._

"_Very well. Is there anyone here who opposes Her Majesty's plan?" Oreius asked, taking control of the discussion._

_Again, there was a momentary pause, before all heads shook negatively. Krisalyn exhaled slowly. She had done it. With Oreius' help, she had convinced the rest of the Council and ensured that Peter's throne would be waiting when her child was old enough to claim it._

_***********************************************************************_

_**One week later…**_

"_Push, Your Majesty!"_

_Krisalyn winced and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a cry as she labored to bring her child into the world. The pain of the birth was nothing compared to the pain in her heart that Peter wasn't here to witness their child being born._

_**Aslan…please, please...**__was all that she could think as she prayed that the baby would be strong and healthy._

"_Once more, Highness!" the midwife urged. She grabbed a towel from one of the attendants as Krisalyn pushed again. This time, Krisalyn felt the baby leave her body. She pushed herself upright with an effort._

"_My baby?" she asked the midwife, who was already cleaning off the child's face. A moment later, the baby squalled angrily._

"_A daughter," the midwife announced immediately._

_**A daughter…Peter's daughter**__. Krisalyn reached out for the baby, taking her into her arms. She gazed at the baby, who had dark wisps of hair crowning her wrinkled face. Krisalyn bounced her slightly, soothing her cries._

_Krisalyn barely noticed as the midwife finished up her duties while she held her daughter close. The infant slowly stopped crying and rested in her mother's arms. The baby's eyes slowly opened, and Krisalyn gasped in surprise. The baby's eyes were a soft, pale blue-violet, almost a blend of her mother's violet eyes and her father's deep blue. With the dark hair, it appeared that she would greatly resemble Krisalyn as she grew older._

"_What will you call her, Majesty?" one of the younger attendants asked, pausing in her duties to look at mother and child lying on the bed._

_Krisalyn hesitated for a moment. She and Peter had discussed names for their child a long time ago, when Krisalyn had first been pregnant with the son that she had miscarried. They had come up with several at the time, but for some reason, as she considered them again now, none of them felt right._

_She looked at her daughter again. Should her daughter's name incorporate Peter's name, as a tribute to him? Something inside her recoiled at that thought. She had no objections to including Peter's name, but for this child…it didn't feel right._

_**Aslan…what are you trying to tell me?**__ she asked the great lion silently. After a moment, she ran the thought back through her mind. __**Aslan …a tribute to the great lion…**_

_Krisalyn looked up at the young midwife apprentice. "Her name will be Aislynn." She looked back at her daughter. "Princess Aislynn, heir to the Narnian throne."_

***********************************************************************

_**Three years later…**_

"_Tumnus, my friend, I don't understand why you are so certain that something is about to happen," Oreius told the Faun patiently._

_Krisalyn sighed and gently rocked Aislynn in her arms as she listened to the Council. The little girl was sleeping contentedly at the moment, and Krisalyn wanted to keep it that way. She had hoped that the meeting would be over by now, as it had been going on for hours already, but to no avail. So when her daughter had quietly pushed open the doors of the Council chamber and crept up to where Krisalyn sat at the head of the table, asking if her mother was going to come and kiss her good night, Krisalyn hadn't been able to deny her._

_Unfortunately, there was still a great deal of business that the Council had to finish tonight, and she couldn't simply adjourn the meeting in the middle of the discussion. So she had picked her daughter up and placed her on her lap and gently rocked her to sleep._

_The Council was making an effort to keep their voices down as a result, which Krisalyn greatly appreciated. Everyone at Cair Paravel doted on Aislynn, but they were careful not to spoil her either. This little girl was going to be their future Queen, and they wanted to make sure that she was the right kind of Queen. They loved Aislynn greatly, and the little princess loved all of them back._

"_Tumnus," Krisalyn finally spoke, bringing the debate between the Centaur and the Faun to a halt. "Please, I know it's late and I know that we're all weary, but I would like to settle this matter before we adjourn for the evening. Why are you so convinced that Narnia is in danger? There have been no signs from any of the border guards, Calormene is quiet, and King Lune has said nothing. What evidence do you have?"_

_The Faun was quiet for a moment as he tried to decide how to answer his Queen's question. In the two years that Krisalyn had been acting as the sole monarch in Narnia, she had completely disproved all the fears that had arisen when she had first announced her intention to step up as regent for her child. She had proven to be as skilled and as compassionate a monarch as Queens Susan and Lucy, and as imperturbable as Kings Peter and Edmund. Having been trained from an early age to rule – back when she had been the Crown Princess of Archenland – had prepared her well for the demands that were placed on a monarch, and Krisalyn had shouldered them all with ease, even while dealing with a new baby less than a week after the Council had confirmed her new status._

"_A dream," the Faun finally replied, knowing how that would go over with the rest of the Council._

_As he expected, there was an immediate outburst from the rest of the Council, although they made an effort to keep their voices down so as not to disturb their sleeping princess._

"_You would have us spend time and resources preparing for danger based solely on a __**dream**__?" Ratha asked incredulously._

"_A dream is all the proof you have Tumnus?" Oreius said at the same time. "When all my scouts are saying that there is no trouble, you would have us go on alert because of a nightmare?"_

_Krisalyn listened silently as the debate raged around her. Tumnus' words had left her cold as she thought about the last dream that had seemed like a premonition that she had had. It had been almost three years since she had thought about that, but the dream came back with crystal clarity. Chasing after Peter and his siblings, trying to convince them to come home, only to have them bid her good-bye and turn away…then finding their belongings abandoned a short time later…_

_She looked down at Aislynn. Her dream – whether premonition or not – had come true, and she wasn't about to ignore Tumnus' dream either. She couldn't take that chance. Not while she was responsible for Narnia and for keeping the throne in trust for Aislynn. But she needed to know more._

"_Enough," she said, again bringing the discussion to a halt. She looked down at Aislynn again. "I'm calling a ten-minute recess, and then we will meet back here and we will finish this discussion. Is that clear?"_

_Nods all around the room answered her, and she rose to her feet, causing the rest of the Council to rise to theirs out of respect. She nodded to them and left the room by one of the rear passages, heading for the Kings' Tower, still carrying Aislynn._

_A few minutes later, she had the little girl comfortably tucked into her bed in the room that had once been the study that she had shared with Peter. After Aislynn had been born, Krisalyn had had the room turned into a nursery so she could be close to her daughter. It had taken some doing, but the huge desk had been moved into a corner of her sitting room, and the study had been set up as Aislynn's room. The walls were still lined with bookshelves filled with books, but otherwise it was a fairly comfortable room for a little girl._

_She kissed her daughter gently on the forehead once more, before slipping out of the room and heading back down to the Council chambers. When she re-entered the room, the rest of the Council was waiting patiently for her return. She took her seat at the head of the table and brought the meeting back to order._

"_All right, Tumnus," she said quietly. "Please, tell us what was in your dream."_

_The Faun looked extremely reluctant, but he finally nodded. "I was standing at the Stone Table, and when I looked around, Aslan was standing beside me. He greeted me, and then told me that we needed to prepare._

"_I asked him what we needed to prepare for, and he said that a time of danger to Narnia was coming, and that there were steps that we needed to take to preserve the most important things of Narnia, including our history. He told me that we needed to construct a place where the Narnians could rally during a time of danger, and that the Stone Table was the best location because of it's position in relation to Cair Paravel, but also to Anvard."_

"_Anvard?" Oreius asked, skeptically._

_Krisalyn nodded. "Anvard is almost directly south of Cair Paravel, General, and the Stone Table sits between the two. Archenland is our closest ally, so it would make sense to put a secondary rallying point somewhere where they could reach us if it became necessary to use it."_

_Oreius let out a deep breath, although he still looked skeptical, as did many of the Council members. Krisalyn let them think about it for a moment or two before she indicated that Tumnus should continue his story._

"_I asked Aslan when the danger would be coming, and how long we had to prepare and he said there were some things that he couldn't tell us, because they were not part of my story. But he said it would be soon, and that we needed to begin the preparations as soon as possible," Tumnus finished. "I couldn't get anything more out of him, and the dream ended almost right after that."_

_Everyone was silent as they considered Tumnus' dream. On the surface, it seemed hard to accept, but they all knew very well that magic, prophecy, and premonition were very real in Narnia. Even more, they knew that Aslan cared about Narnia. Narnia was his favored kingdom, and despite his silence since the disappearance of their Kings and Queens three years ago, he would always protect them. He had come to help save them from the Witch, and brought the Kings and Queens so the ancient prophecy could be fulfilled, after all, and that was not a fact that they could discard._

_Finally, Krisalyn spoke. "I know this is hard for all of us to accept, given Aslan's silence in the past three years, but I do not think that we should dare to disregard the command that he has obviously given us through Tumnus. For tonight, we will let the matter rest, but tomorrow we shall reconvene and begin finding a way to fulfill Aslan's orders. Whatever is about to happen, we will be ready for it."_

_***********************************************************************_

_**Two years later…**_

"_Majesty, we just received the final report from the construction group at the How," Ratha reported after the Council meeting had been convened. "All of the work has been completed, and it is a completely defensible retreat or rallying point if we need it."_

"_Thank you, Ratha," Krisalyn replied. "I am glad to know that the work that Aslan has ordered us to do has been completed on schedule."_

"_I've already arranged for supplies to be placed inside the How, along with weapons and forge equipment, so that if we do end up having to use the How, we'll already have some fortifications in place," Oreius added._

_Krisalyn nodded and thanked the Centaur as well. The change in the last two years, ever since Tumnus had convinced them that they needed to make the preparations that Aslan had spoken of in his dream, were welcome. It had taken some time for everyone in the Council to come to agreement of the plan, but eventually everyone had been on board. The How was a very sturdy, defensible structure that could serve as a rallying point, a fortress, or a staging area for campaigns. One benefit was that it kept the army away from Cair Paravel, as well as giving them a second area to attack from if an invasion should ever penetrate so far into Narnia._

_Fortunately, despite the warning given by Aslan, there had been no sign of any trouble. Calormen had been quiet ever since Prince Radabash's attack had been routed by King Lune, Edmund, and – most unexpectedly, Prince Cor. Archenland had never posed a threat, since they were Narnia's closest allies. To the West…well, the scouts and border guards kept a careful watch from that direction, since that was where the Kings and Queens had been when they had disappeared, and even though there were strange things in the unexplored Western Wild, there had been no real threat to Narnia from that direction._

_In the North, Ettinsmoor was always a concern, but they too were quiet. One of the last things that Peter had done before disappearing was beat back the rebellious Giants that lived in that rather barren region. Over the fifteen years since the Witch's defeat, the Kings had defeated the Ettinsmoor Giants handily several times, which made them cautious about invading again._

_To the East were Galma, Terebinthia, and the Lone Islands, and they were trade allies with Narnia. They had no reason to invade, because a great deal of their resources came from the richer land of Narnia. No one knew what lay beyond the Lone Islands, but everyone agreed that that was where Aslan's Country lay, and all of Narnia was skeptical that there could be anything beyond Aslan's Country, let alone anything that could pose a threat to Narnia._

_Whatever danger was coming, Krisalyn was certain that they would be prepared for it._

_They moved on to several other topics concerning trade with their allies. Krisalyn was pleased at how well they were working together. Even though she was the final authority, the Council were steady and worked like one. Issues were debated, problem areas identified, and solutions were proposed._

_Just as they were about to adjourn for the day, a sudden banging on the doors of the Council chambers had them all looking up in alarm just before the doors swung open, revealing a breathless messenger. The gryphon was trembling with exhaustion, but he hurried into the room, his feathers slicked back and his eyes dilated with alarm._

"_General! Your Majesty!" the gryphon cried. "Narnia is being invaded!"_

_It took a moment for the words to sink in, before everyone was on their feet, yelling and demanding an explanation._

"_Silence!" Krisalyn and Oreius roared together. Krisalyn was on her feet as everyone in the room fell silent, looking at the Queen and the General with wide eyes._

"_Saren, explain that comment!" Krisalyn snapped, her hands clutching the edge of the table in front of her so tightly her knuckles had turned white._

"_I was on my patrol west of Beruna, between Beaver's Dam and the Shuddering Wood," Saren explained. "I caught sight of what appeared to be a large group of people moving through the wood, and when I dropped lower to get a closer look, they spotted me and started shooting at me."_

"_What did they look like?" Oreius demanded._

"_All Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve," the gryphon scout reported. "All the men were armed, and they were walking in an army formation. They were dark-skinned, but too light to be from Calormen, and they were coming directly from the West."_

"_How many are we talking about?" Tumnus asked._

"_Thousands," Saren replied. "I headed west after I got high enough that I couldn't be shot at, and they've been setting up huge campsites for miles."_

_Krisalyn and Oreius exchanged looks. Oreius understood immediately what his Queen was asking of him, and nodded. "With your permission, Majesty?"_

"_Granted," Krisalyn replied._

_The Centaur bowed quickly before hurrying out of the Council chambers to rally the scouts and alert the army. If this was the danger that Aslan had spoken of, they would need to be ready._

_***********************************************************************_

_Three weeks later…_

_Krisalyn looked on wearily as Anvard loomed in front of them. For twenty years, she had called this place home, back when she had been Archenland's crown princess and heir to the throne. After she had been betrothed to Peter, she'd given up her claim to the throne in favor of her twin brother, who was five minutes younger than she was._

_Now, however, her uncle's own sons, Prince Cor and his twin Prince Corin were the next in line for the throne. After their birth, her brother had also abdicated his claim to the throne, and lived quietly on an estate some miles west of here with his own wife and daughter._

_She looked around at the rest of the Narnian Council who had fled along with her. Oreius and Tumnus had worked hard to keep them all safe and to find a secure passage for them from Cair Paravel to Anvard. Ratha had also helped along the way. Giles Fox had chosen to stay behind. Being a fox made him an ideal scout and a spy, and he had promised to join them soon._

_The only member of the Council who was unable to join them was Owain. As a Dryad, he was unable to leave his oak tree for long periods. Even the Council sessions could become a strain on him if they went for longer than a few days. He was forced to remain in Narnia, and had fled in the opposite direction, back to his tree in Owlwood._

_At least they were safe. She knew her uncle wouldn't deny them refuge, and he would do everything in his power to help them drive off the invading army, whom the Narnians had learned were Telmarines, from the far west._

_Trumpets blared from the castle battlements, as the sentries caught sight of their approaching party and announced their arrival. Krisalyn spurred her horse forward as they clattered up the cobblestone path into the courtyard. She pulled her horse to a stop and dismounted, her gaze automatically flicking over to Oreius, who held Aislynn cradled in his strong arms._

_Commotion at the top of the stairs leading into the palace drew her attention, as her uncle and cousins exited the palace to see what the alert had been about. All three of them looked shocked to see her, since the last time she had seen them was almost five years ago. They were fully aware that Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy were missing, and that Krisalyn had stepped forward as regent. They also knew about Aislynn, but this was the first time they had seen her since Cor had been discovered and Edmund had helped to repel Rabadash's invasion of Archenland._

"_Krisalyn?" Lune asked, his surprise etched on his face. His white hair had receded a little bit, but he was still a very handsome man. Beside him, Cor and Corin were almost mirror images of each other, with dark brown hair and eyes. The only difference between them was that Cor's skin was duskier than his twin, due to all the years he spent working in the hot sun of Calormen when he had been known as the orphan Shasta._

"_Hello, uncle," Krisalyn said softly, taking her daughter from Oreius and ascending the steps._

"_What are you doing here?" Lune asked, still bewildered by her sudden arrival._

"_We need refuge…and your help," Krisalyn told him softly. She held Aislynn out to him. "I'd like you to meet Aislynn…your grand-niece."_


	22. Chapter 21: Heartfelt Confessions

_Author's Note: Hey everyone! Thanks so much for your patience with this story. Real life snuck up and attacked me again, and unlike our heroes, I didn't have a sword to fight back. I've been wrestling with this chapter for a while now, and tonight the words finally felt like they were coming. As a warning, this chapter contains a lot of messy emotional stuff, as well as a couple of flashbacks. But don't worry, we'll be picking up on the action soon enough - hopefully in the next chapter! Don't forget to read and leave me a review!_

_**Chapter Twenty-One: Heartfelt Confessions**_

Edmund's heart was still pounding from the confrontation with the Witch as he made his way out of the Stone Table chamber with Trumpkin, Lucy, and Aislynn. The old memories of his time as her captive were racing through his mind, and he shuddered as the adrenaline continued to course through him.

It was ironic that, unlike Peter, he tended to become nervous about a situation _after_ it had already happened. Before and during a battle, he was usually able to stay calm and level-headed, trusting his own skills and their strategy. Peter, on the other hand, showed his nerves far more plainly before a battle than he did.

But after the battle was over, the impact of what had just happened – what could have happened – hit him all at once, and when combined with the adrenaline that he usually managed to work up, it left him a shaking, babbling mess.

Over the years, he'd learned to control the babbling at least, but the emotional and adrenaline high had never faded, and it was again rearing its ugly head.

It had been so close…if they had arrived any later, the Witch would have come back. She had almost reached Caspian when Peter interfered, and she had even manipulated the High King into nearly freeing her.

_Aslan, if you put Aislynn in the right place to hear what was going on in time to warn us…thank you. We couldn't have fought the Witch and the Telmarines at the same time. There is too much at stake for that complication. Now…let that be the last that we ever hear from her._

As his thoughts turned to Aislynn, he paused in mid-step. Something that she had said had been nagging at him, but he had pressed it aside in the worry over the Witch, and again in the chamber when he had watched Peter almost succumb to Jadis' manipulations.

Lucy, Aislynn, and Trumpkin moved on several more paces before they realized that Edmund had stopped in the middle of the corridor and appeared to be deep in thought. Lucy tipped her head to the side. "Edmund? What's wrong?"

Edmund slowly focused on Aislynn's face. Her words were ringing in his mind. _When she came into the planning room, she was yelling for her father…and __**Peter**__ responded. But didn't she say that she didn't know who her father was when we first met her? And in the Table chamber…it was something about... "Do you think so poorly of my father", wasn't it? And we were looking at Peter when she said that…_

He studied the young woman more closely. Now, with these thoughts roiling in his mind, he could see things that he hadn't before. _Black hair, just like Krisalyn's…her eyes are almost a blend of Krisalyn's and Peter's, that soft blue-violet…she's tall like Peter was and like Krisalyn is…_

The more he looked at her, the more he was able to pick out parts of her appearance that were purely Peter, and other parts that were definitely inherited from Krisalyn. _She's in her mid-twenties…that would put her the right age to be Peter's daughter…_

For a moment he thought he couldn't breathe as the realization swept over him. All he could do was stare at Aislynn…his niece...who was he kidding? She was _Peter's __**daughter**_!

"Edmund?" Lucy's sweet voice asked, sounding puzzled by her brother's unresponsiveness.

Susan, Cor, Corin, and the rest of the Narnian Council hurried around the corner from behind Lucy at that moment, slowing to a stop as they saw that everyone was apparently unhurt. Susan placed her hands gently on Lucy's shoulders, before looking at Edmund.

"Edmund, where's Peter?" Susan asked, tightening her grip on Lucy's shoulders. "He's not hurt, is he?"

Edmund blinked at the question and shook his head. "No, he's fine. He'll join us in a few minutes." He smiled at his older sister, before he turned his attention to Aislynn.

The young woman in question looked puzzled as she realized that he was staring at her. "King Edmund? Is something wrong? Is there something I might assist you with?"

Edmund looked at her for several second more. "Lady Aislynn…if you please…who are your parents?"

The Narnian Council murmured in surprise at their Just King's question. There was uneasy shifting from several of the members of the Council, but no one spoke as Aislynn started, taken aback by the inquiry.

After a moment however, she regained control of herself, her surprise fading to a gentle smile and pride filling her features. "I am the daughter of High King Peter and Queen Krisalyn of Narnia," she said quietly. "I was born twenty-five years ago in the Narnian month of Greenroof, on the eighteenth day of the month."

Susan's mouth dropped open, her surprise was so great, as well as being reflected in the faces of Caspian's Council. Trumpkin, Reepicheep, Trufflehunter, Glenstorm, and Doctor Cornelius all appeared as surprised as Edmund and Susan were at hearing Aislynn's true identity. Their princess had been working beside them for over a week, and she had not said a word.

Despite his surprise at the confirmation of his suspicion (which he honestly hadn't expected) Edmund was quick to note that Oreius, the Black Dwarf Ratha, Tumnus, Cor, and Corin were exhibiting no surprise whatsoever. They had known the whole time and they had not breathed a word. However, Edmund also noted that _Lucy_ didn't seem surprised either.

"Lu?" he asked, quietly, wondering if she had possibly known.

"I knew, Ed," she said simply.

"How?" Susan asked, recovering her poise more quickly than he would have expected.

Lucy shrugged delicately. "Instinct, perhaps? Too many things pointed to it, and at first I wasn't sure, but I just watched and listened until Aislynn's own reaction gave it away."

Edmund looked at Aislynn. "You knew all along who your father was and didn't say anything?"

Aislynn shook her head. "Not at all, King Edmund," she replied softly. "I had no idea until Aunt – Queen - Lucy told me. My mother never told me who my father was, and she never told me that she was a Queen of Narnia. After Queen Lucy told me her suspicions, I confronted Corin and he confirmed it."

"It was Krisalyn's will that we not say anything about it to Princess Aislynn," Oreius said quietly. "Originally, before the Telmarines invaded, Queen Krisalyn took control of the four thrones with the intention of stepping aside once Princess Aislynn was old enough to claim them as the heir. But when the Telmarines invaded, the plans changed. Krisalyn didn't want there to be any chance that word would reach the invaders that the Queen and heir were still alive. With the agreement of the Council, we said nothing to Aislynn about her identity or her parents' identity after we fled Narnia."

Edmund looked between his sisters, the Council, and the rest of their friends before he looked back at Aislynn. She was looking back at him with her soft eyes, a quiet blend of Peter's and Krisalyn's. Looking into her eyes, Edmund saw a quiet hope, love, and longing and in that split second, he wasn't looking at Aislynn. The similarity of her features to Peter, even if she had more of her mother in her, and that expression…it was Peter to a tee.

It was the expression that Peter had worn on the day when Krisalyn had told him that she was expecting the child that they had eventually lost. It was the same expression that he wore every time he had looked at Krisalyn after they fell in love, but then it had been filled with pride as well.

In that moment, Edmund completely forgot that he wasn't looking at his brother, because the expression on his niece's face was so close to Peter. He stepped closer to her and gently wrapped his arms around her for a hug, in the same way he did when Peter wore that expression on his face. It was awkward because of their height differences but it felt right nonetheless.

Caught by surprise, it took her several seconds to respond, but then she returned the hug, just before Susan and Lucy joined them in sharing a large group hug. The four of them stood there, just sharing the embrace and the joy of realizing that they were a family. The only thing missing was the presence of Peter and Krisalyn to complete their family circle.

They broke apart, and Susan and Lucy both shared individual hugs with Aislynn, quietly and openly declaring her as one of them, and accepting her into the family that she had never known.

As they finally broke apart, Edmund looked at the gathered group. "We need to finish making our plans for the defense of the How," he said seriously. "Everyone is counting on us to be ready when the Telmarines arrive."

The group nodded and headed back up the tunnel towards the smaller Council room, knowing that Peter would join them soon enough.

***********************************************************************

Krisalyn watched quietly as Aislynn's identity was revealed to her uncle and aunts. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as her daughter was welcomed into their fold. Keeping the secret from Aislynn all these years had been the hardest thing she had ever done – and she still wasn't sure that it had been the best plan.

But she had made her decision and she had stood by it, and now Aislynn knew the truth. Peter's daughter had found her family again, and they would be there to help her when Krisalyn left to walk with Aslan in his Country. Peter and the others would help her adjust, and they would meet again one day.

She closed her eyes to force back the tears at the thought of everything that she would miss. She had resigned herself to being without Peter years ago, but she had still hoped and prayed that Aslan would grant her enough time to see her daughter happy, healthy, and in possession of the throne that was rightfully hers.

"_Your Majesty, I don't know what more we can do," Arctus said quietly after he finished examining her. "We've tried every thing I know of and a few things that were purely experimental."_

_Krisalyn took a deep breath as she absorbed the impact of the healer's words. The dizzy spells had been growing worse and worse over the last few months, but they had been occurring, off and on, for almost a year, along with almost consistent headaches and bouts of extreme nausea and numbness in her limbs._

_Taken individually, there were plenty of remedies – from Narnia, Archenland, and Calormen – for her symptoms, but nothing that took care of all of them at once. Often, when one symptom would lessen in severity as a result of a treatment, the others would become worse. They had been treating her based on a system of trial and error for the last year, and nothing had proven to be effective at treating whatever ailed her._

"_What would you say is our next recourse?" she finally asked. She needed answers of some kind, even if they weren't the ones that she wanted to hear. With Aislynn having been sent to Narnia to help to thwart the Telmarine invaders, she was on her own. Cor, Corin, and Aravis had been so supportive, doing everything they could to help her, but there was only so much she could do._

_Arctus shook his head. "I honestly don't know what to tell you, Your Majesty. If your symptoms continue to increase as they have been, there's no telling what condition they could leave you in. At most, I would give you three to five years if they continue to increase at the same rate – but if something changes, it could be much less. I'll continue looking for anything we haven't tried yet, but I think we need to give you time to recover from the treatments we've already tried. If we try to mix too many more treatments together, we could end up doing more harm than good."_

_Krisalyn sighed heavily. It was hard to imagine that this was where it would end. She'd been alone – without her beloved Peter – for twenty-five years, but she was only fifty-six. She had hoped that she would get to see Aislynn married and happy, with a family of her own, seated firmly on the throne that was her birthright, even though she didn't know it._

"_My life is in Aslan's paws," she whispered quietly._

"_I'm afraid so, Your Majesty. I suspect that he is the only one who could do anything at this point."_

She needed to tell Peter. She had not expected to ever see him again, and she had braced herself for the fact that she would be leaving Aislynn alone. He would watch out for Aislynn and be there for her – she knew him well enough to know that now that he knew about his daughter, nothing would keep them apart.

But then again…

Peter had abandoned them once before – deliberately or by accident, Krisalyn still wasn't sure – and could she really say that he wouldn't do the same thing again once he found out about her condition?

No…there was still too much broken trust between them. She needed to wait and learn more – to see if she could place her faith in the man she had loved again. There would still be time once the situation with the Telmarines was resolved.

***********************************************************************

Peter and Caspian stood in the Stone Table room, not speaking to each other as they both stared at the carved relief of Aslan on the wall. The remnants of the magical ice that had contained Jadis were slowly melting into the dirt floor of the chamber. Soon, there would be no trace that anything had happened here.

Caspian watched as Peter seemed to shake off whatever shock seemed to possess him as he took on a solemn countenance. He braced himself to be scolded or accused by the High King again, even though he hadn't known what Nikabrik had intended to do. All he had wanted to do was help – to find someway to stop his uncle so he could keep the promise he had made to the Narnians when they agreed to support him.

Instead, Peter didn't even look at him as he walked over to the steps and bent down to receive the Witch's broken wand. A deep scowl crossed Peter's face as he handled the shards, but he shook it off as he picked up the werewolf's cloak and wrapped the wand inside it. "Aslan, let that be the last that we ever see of her," he whispered quietly, setting the wand on the Table before taking a seat on one of the stone steps and staring at the relief on the wall.

Feeling awkward, as if he was intruding on a private moment, Caspian turned away from the younger boy. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." The words were almost as soft as Peter's had been before he turned and walked out of the chamber.

The corridors were quiet as Caspian moved through them. He had a lot of thinking to do. He had made more than one mistake, and he needed to rectify them before his uncle arrived.

The smell of fresh, clean morning air drew him higher and higher inside the How until he exited on the level that ran above the main entrance. Ahead of him, to the north, the edges of the sky were starting to become tinged with pink and gold as the sun rose higher in the east.

North was his home – the castle he had grown up in – the one that by all rights truly belonged to Peter and his siblings.

As much as he wanted to convince himself otherwise, his confrontation with the Witch had shown him that he wasn't ready to become King. He had done the best he could before Narnia's monarchs had returned, but compared to them and their legend, he was floundering.

He took a seat on a boulder that was covered with soft moss. He was coming to realize that he was a failure, in more ways than one. Somehow he had disappointed his uncle, his professor, the Narnians, and the Narnian monarchs. He wasn't much of a leader – he had been making up plans as they went along – he didn't know enough about Narnia's history to know when he should be cautious, and the things he had just done in the Stone Table room could be interpreted as traitorous.

He sensed someone behind him and glanced over his shoulder to see Dr. Cornelius standing there. Caspian turned back to look at the field that stretched out in front of the How to the tree line. It was a field that would soon be soaked in Narnian and Telmarine blood. "I'm sorry. I've gone against everything you taught me."

Dr. Cornelius sat down on the boulder beside him with some difficulty – owing to his bulk – and gazed out at the field as well. "You are still young, my Prince, and this is a challenge that I prayed you would never need to face."

"Why did you never tell me about my father?"

"My mother was a Black Dwarf from the Northern Mountains. I was sent back into Narnia long before you were born in the hopes of getting myself into a position where I could influence your father or – if necessary – you, and help to restore Narnia in that way."

Caspian looked at his tutor in surprise. As he thought about how his uncle had always been so adamant that the stories of Narnia and her history not be taught to him – the reason that his nurse had been sent away – and yet his (apparently) purely Telmarine tutor knew all of the stories and would secretly defy Miraz in order to teach Caspian the true history of the country he was to rule one day, he wondered why he had never realized that Cornelius was a Narnian spy years ago.

"I first arrived at the court not long after you were born. Even though I wasn't in a position to reach out to you or your father at that point, I could see from the beginning that your uncle would do anything to claim the throne. When your father died so suddenly, not long after you were born, I had my suspicions, but no real proof. There were other rumors and veiled accusations from the Council, but Miraz took such care in raising you, and in not doing anything overt to seize the throne that was being held in trust for you, that the suspicion died away until recently."

Cornelius looked up at Caspian, seeing the understanding cross his face as he grasped what he was being told. "I risked my life all these years so that one day you might be a better King than those before you, one who could compare to the expectations that the Narnians had."

Caspian looked down, realizing again just how many mistakes he had made, whether out of jealousy, a sense of betrayal, or pure ignorance. "Then I have failed you."

Cornelius smiled and carefully laid a hand on Caspian's forearm. "Everything I told you…everything I didn't…it was only because I believe in you. You have a chance to become the most noble contradiction in history. The Telmarine who saved Narnia."

***********************************************************************

When Edmund had been revealed as having stabbed Jadis from behind in order to stop her spell of seduction, it had taken Peter several seconds to shake off her spell. By the time Edmund, who was breathing as if he had just run a marathon, stepped forward, he had mostly cast off the effects.

He was able to truthfully say in response to Edmund's query of "Are you all right, Peter?" that he was fine, and to thank his brother – not just for stopping Jadis, but for everything. For helping him adjust to being back in England, even when his younger siblings had all been going through the same thing, to being a listening ear when Peter needed it…to just being his _brother_.

Everything that had happened, the incredibly guilty thoughts that had been running through his head while he was under the spell came crashing back to him. How had he gone so wrong?

He watched, as if from a distance as Edmund stepped forward again, inquiring about everyone's well-being and receiving affirmative answers. The relief of Aslan in front of him, framed by the trilithion and the melting ice stared down at him, and Peter felt his throat tighten with guilt and regret.

Edmund stepped closer to his brother. "Pete, we'll see you back in the council room?"

Peter nodded slowly. "In a few minutes, Edmund. I need to think about some things."

"Peter…do you need one of us to stay?" the youngest Queen asked softly.

Peter shook his head. "No…thanks, Lu. I'll be there in a few minutes." And he would, but he did need to think about some things. Slowly, everyone left the room until he and Caspian were left standing in front of the relief of Aslan. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Caspian look guiltily at him.

Another stab of guilt pierced him. He had not been fair to the Prince. Coming back to find things so changed in Narnia, when it had only been twenty-five years (even though it was only four months for him) had been painful, and it made him wonder just what kind of an affect he and his siblings had had on Narnia.

Jadis had almost destroyed Narnia – would have, if it hadn't been for Aslan and the Deep Magic calling to them. It had taken several years to truly eliminate the taint that the Witch had left on the kingdom. They had had to track down and destroy the remaining members of the Witch's army, they'd had to do extensive research in the libraries of Cair Paravel to find the laws and decrees that had been Narnia's governing forces before Jadis conquered…and Peter and the other three had need to learn how to become Kings and Queens.

For fifteen years, Narnia had prospered – and from everything he had heard, had continued to prosper once Krisalyn had stepped forward to hold the throne in trust for Aislynn. But then, in one fell swoop everything had changed for the worse, and the Narnia that he remembered was all but gone. The Council and his wife and daughter had been in exile for twenty years, the Narnians had been forced into hiding for fear of being killed if they were seen, and now they were facing another pitched battle to decide Narnia's fate. There was no sign or word from Aslan, so they didn't even know if what they were doing was part of his plan or not.

As he gazed at the image of Aslan, his eyes fell on the shattered piece of Jadis' wand. The sight of the evil thing brought chills down his spine as he remembered what it had done to Edmund, to so many Narnians, while being wielded by the Witch. Now, somehow, it had nearly been used to bring her back from beyond the grave.

Moving slowly, and with deliberate purpose, he stepped over to where there was a large black cloak on the floor. He picked it up, and then walked over to the wand and wrapped the thick cloth around the wand before yanking it up out of the magical ice where it was embedded.

Another shiver went through him, and he couldn't help the scowl that broke out on his face as he looked at the deceptively fragile piece of crystal and silver. Of all the things that had survived from the time they had first entered Narnia, this was one that he wished had never seen the light of day again.

"Aslan, let that be the last we ever see of her," he whispered as he placed the shrouded wand on top of the Stone Table. He still wasn't ready to rejoin the others, but they would need to find a safe place to put the wand until they could ask Aslan what was to be done with it.

He moved over and took a seat on the steps leading up to the Table and gazed at the relief of Aslan, still trying to sort through the turmoil in his mind. He barely heard the words that Caspian whispered as he backed out of the chamber to leave Peter to his thoughts. He needed to make some decisions, and quickly. He would be needed in the Council again soon.

The strain and the stress of dealing with a changed Narnia, plus the upcoming battle between the Narnians and the Telmarines, and the situation with his wife and daughter had made him snappish and inflexible. It was one of his worst faults – when he felt too stressed and worried, he didn't react well to challenges, or anything that he perceived as incompetence.

He knew that he had been too hard on Caspian. He truly did like the young man, but he had seen, right from the beginning that Caspian didn't have a true grasp of what Kingship meant. Part of that was no doubt due to his upbringing. He had probably been taught a great deal about the theories of ruling, but had never been given any practical experience.

As a result of what he had observed, he had come down much harder than he would have normally done on the Prince. Caspian was looking to put himself in the position that was his by birth – King of the Telmarines – and also to ally himself with the Narnians in the hope that he could unite the two peoples under a sole King. He probably hadn't realized that there was a living heir – since the Narnians had not seemed to be aware of it either, which meant that unless Aslan willed otherwise, Caspian would not be the Narnian King. That position – or rather, the position of Queen – rightfully belonged to Aislynn.

The Narnians had become his people, and Peter didn't want to see his people placed under the rule of someone who truly did not understand them, which was another reason why he had been hard on Caspian. But he knew he hadn't been fair, either. Given what he knew about Caspian's upbringing, Caspian probably knew about as much as Peter had when he and his siblings had first been crowned by Aslan. They had learned, from tutors and through trial and error, how to be the Kings and Queens that Aslan had intended them to be. Caspian could learn as well – but they would have to settle the matter of where the rule of Narnia would fall – to Caspian, or to Aislynn.

Peter felt a burden lift from his shoulders. He had made the decision about what to do regarding Caspian's situation. It would still take some coordination, but they could come up with a reasonable, workable plan, once Narnia had been saved and they had the luxury to sit down and reason things out.

His thoughts turned, almost inadvertently to his wife and daughter. Now that he was no longer under the Witch's mesmerizing spell, he was able to think more objectively, and he started reasoning through the thoughts that had crossed his mind before Edmund had stabbed Jadis.

Technically, he had not fulfilled the vows he had made to Krisalyn. During the time they had been together, her protection, like his and his siblings, had been in Oreius' capable hands as far as arranging for their personal guards went. But, as her husband, it had fallen on him to see that the protection she was entitled to was carried out, and he had done that. In return, she had given him a shelter and a refuge from the duties of being the High King, had given him her love and affection, and been a partner to him in everyway that she knew how.

But he had failed even more deeply. When she had told him that she was pregnant with Aislynn, and he had chosen to leave to go hunting with his siblings, he had failed. Even though he could not have possibly known what would happen, he had voluntarily chosen to leave her. Despite her insistence, he should have stayed. So in a way, he had abandoned her, and thus he had broken his deepest promise to her – that he would never abandon her or their family. While some people might not see it that way, his heart knew the truth.

At this point, he couldn't fix the mistake, but he could seek her forgiveness, and work to regain her trust – and that was all that he could do. The rest of it was up to her. He had hurt her, and it would be her trust that she would grant him when she felt that he had earned it again. It was out of his hands.

_It is out of my hands,_ he repeated to himself. _I've done all that I can do, and that is that._

With another decision made and resolved in his mind, the burden of guilt, grief, and worry that had been weighing him down seemed much lighter than it had been…but there was still a massive black cloud hanging over his head – the darkest of all of them, and the one that he was most ashamed of.

_Aslan…_

When they had first stepped into Narnia, and Peter had heard the great Lion's name spoken by Mr. Beaver, it had filled him with a sense of hope, courage, and confidence that he could be the King that the Beavers believed he was. Seeing Aslan in the camp at Beruna had given him another massive surge of confidence – confidence that had carried him through the battle with the Witch and her army.

On the battlefield of Beruna, Peter had sworn his faith, loyalty, and trust to Aslan. The King Above All Kings had not asked it of him, but Peter had given it freely, along with his love. That oath had allowed him to become the High King that Narnia needed – to hold to the chivalry and honor that was expected of a Knight, to represent Narnia with dignity, compassion, and justice, and to love her people as deeply as he loved his siblings.

He had never doubted Aslan's power, plan, or love for Narnia – not once in fifteen years. He had doubted himself and his own abilities at times, but he had always had his siblings and later his wife to pull him back and remind him of the things that Aslan had seen in him to get him back on the path he had willingly agreed to walk.

But standing inside the circle, being seduced by the Witch…he had, for the first time, doubted Aslan. He had lost the faith in Aslan that had made him magnificent. Even during the fifteen years they had sat on the thrones and things had felt uncertain and dangerous, Peter had felt the calm reassurance that he _knew_ had come from Aslan. No matter how big the threat had been – whether it had been the Fell Creatures who were left from the Witch's army, or the Giants of Ettinsmoor, or the Calormen army…he had always been confident that if it got to be too much for them to handle, Aslan would be there to help them. Narnia was where he had put his grace and his power, and it was the home of his beloved children.

Quiet footsteps drew his attention as Lucy came over to where he was sitting on the steps leading up to the Table. He looked over at her but didn't say anything as Lucy sat down beside him. After a moment, he returned his attention to the relief of Aslan.

"You're lucky, you know?"

Lucy looked over at him, a puzzled frown on her face. "What do you mean?"

"You still have faith," Peter replied. He could tell that she still didn't understand. "Lu, you've always been the one who was able to believe the easiest. Even though I never doubted Aslan once I swore myself to him…before I could truly put my faith in him, I doubted…and I doubted again when he sent us back to England without Krisalyn."

Lucy was quiet as she thought about what he was saying – and what he wasn't saying. "Peter, you have no reason to be jealous."

Peter looked at her sharply, the denial on his tongue, before he allowed it to die. His little sister was very good at reading people, and he wouldn't disrespect her by not allowing her to finish what she was saying. At times, she was able to get to the heart of a matter with only a few words. Even though Susan was the one who was the Gentle, there was a great deal of gentleness and insight in his youngest sister too.

"We're two different people, you and I," Lucy continued. "I'm the youngest, and you and the others have always done more to shelter me than you have with each other. But you…you're the oldest, Peter. You had to become a protector for the rest of us, and you are the High King. Aslan made us all equal in power and authority, but he placed the bulk of the burden on you. You have always been our role model, so there was a different standard that you had to meet."

She stood up and walked over to the relief and gently reached out and brushed her hand over it. "You've never truly lost faith in Aslan, Peter, no matter what your head is telling you. If you had, you wouldn't have the love for Narnia that I have seen in your eyes every time I look at you ever since we first stepped into Narnia. I think _you_ were really the first one to have that faith, because I saw it when you apologized for not believing me, right before I threw that snowball in your face."

Peter snorted with laughter, remembering that. She had caught him by complete surprise that day, before events had accelerated and grown more intense…back when they were just four ordinary English school children and wartime evacuees.

Lucy joined his laughter. "Peter, I was the first one to see Narnia, to believe in it…but you were the first one to _understand _it, to realize what our role here would be, even before you heard the prophecy, or Aslan's name, or saw Mr. Beaver's fealty to us." She moved back over to sit beside him again. "You've gone through trials that I haven't, and that's why our faith and trust cannot and should not be compared. I've never been in love with someone…I've never anticipated being a parent – not once, but twice, I might point out – and I've never lost something that powerful and been floundering because it was such an important part of who I am."

She paused for a moment. "Do you remember the day that you told us you were planning to ask Krisalyn to marry you?"

_Peter fingered the small velvet-wrapped bundle in his pocket. He had had it secretly commissioned, because he didn't want the topic to come up until he was ready. Rumors and gossip spread like wildfires among the Narnians, who were always looking for news and stories to share. He didn't want the Court to know…but more importantly, he didn't want his siblings to know until __**he**__ had the opportunity to break the news to them and get their thoughts on the matter. What he was considering would affect all of them, in many different ways._

_He was waiting in the sitting room that had been set aside as their private meeting place. Since they all had their suites in one of the two tallest towers in Cair Paravel, they didn't have a truly good place that they could all share equally or with special guests that they wished to entertain as a group. Susan – who had taken over the role of hostess within Cair Paravel - had quickly set up the small sitting room for just that purpose, and the four of them could be found here almost every night unless there was a feast or a festival that necessitated their presence, or if one of them was away fulfilling their obligations to Narnia._

_He waited until all three of them had selected drinks and light treats and settled in their chosen spots. Tonight was a perfect night to broach the topic he wanted to discuss with them, because if they agreed he would have to go on a short trip, which would mean entrusting them with his responsibilities for a brief time…but more than that, because the sooner he addressed the issue, the less time he would have to lose his nerve._

_Edmund leaned back in his chair as he sipped the warm, spiced cider he had chosen. It was a late autumn evening and the crisp breezes were blowing gently into the room from the eastern balcony. It was an ideal night for warm cider – especially since the Narnian blend of spices were amazing. "What did you want to talk to us about, Pete?"_

_Peter took a deep breath and closed his hand over the bundle in his pocket. "I needed to tell you that I am planning on leaving to go to Archenland in a day or two," he began._

_All three of his siblings sat up alertly. "Whatever for?" Susan asked. "No dispatches have come from Lune, and he was just up here for the anniversary celebration two months ago."_

"_It's nothing to do with the kingdom – at least, not it's safety or trade," Peter assured them. "It's a personal matter."_

"_Peter, whatever it is, you need to tell us." Susan's voice took on a stern tone. "We're your equals, and if it affects you or Narnia in anyway, it affects all three of us."_

_He nodded and pulled his hand, clutching the bundle, out of his pocket and placed it on the table in front of them. "I know, Susan. You didn't let me finish what I was going to say. I would never keep something like this from you, because it will affect all of us." He unwrapped the little square of velvet, revealing a beautiful silver pendant made in the shape of a heart set inside a white rose. The heart was made of tiny rubies, and the white rose of pearls._

"_I am going to Anvard to speak to King Lune about asking for Princess Krisalyn's hand in marriage, and to propose to her if he agrees," Peter said. "She's old enough that I don't have to ask consent, but since she is Lune's heir and marrying me will mean she has to renounce that position, it concerns him as well."_

_His siblings were speechless. Peter had been courted by every noble woman in the world it seemed. After they had been crowned, the women had flocked to Cair Paravel, professing their love for the High King, and Peter had refused every one of them, saying that they didn't know him, so they couldn't love him. They were in love with the idea of being the High King's wife and they craved the status and power that position would grant them._

_Ironically enough, it was only Princess Krisalyn who had not professed her love for Peter at any point. After Lune had introduced them, she and Peter had become very good friends – and dance partners – but she had never seemed to show any romantic interest in him, which had been a relief to him in more than one way._

_Lucy studied the beautiful pendant that Peter would be giving to Krisalyn as a betrothal gift if she accepted his proposal. "I didn't think you were interested in getting married, Peter. You've rejected every woman who's come to the Cair for the last five years."_

_Peter smiled and reached out to squeeze his youngest sister's hand. "I never rejected the idea of getting married, Lu. I figured out pretty early after we were crowned that we would all have to get married someday. I was rejecting the women themselves. They were all beautiful, but they were only looking for the status of being my wife. I wanted someone who loves __**me**__, not my title…and I wanted someone who would be a friend. Krisalyn and I have a solid friendship, I think, and I do think I am in love with her. She has some of the best qualities of you and Su – your kindness, compassion, gentleness, and responsibility – but other than one joke about Lune trying to get the two of us together in the hopes that we would be a match, she's never said a word about marriage. She is the only one who didn't throw herself at me, but when they were here for the anniversary, I thought I saw love in her face when we talked and when we danced."_

_He sat back slightly. "But that's why I'm telling the three of you, first. If the three of us are going to get married, I think we should all agree on our intendeds. You three are more important to me than anyone, and I want my wife to be someone that you approve of, and someone that you can get along with. I want your approval before I do this."_

_All three of them looked thoughtful, although Edmund also looked a little uncomfortable. It was obvious that despite the number of suitors he'd helped Peter chase away from their sisters, he had never really thought about he and Peter getting married, and being asked to give an opinion about the person his brother wanted to marry was unnerving._

"_I think she's a perfect choice for you, Peter," Lucy said after a moment. "I liked her a lot when I met her. She's the same age as you, she's high enough in rank that choosing her won't offend the other noble women __**too**__ much – other than the fact that you're not choosing them, that is – and she understands the responsibilities of being royalty."_

_Susan nodded in agreement. "I agree with everything Lucy said, as well as everything you said about why you love her. I don't foresee us having any difficulty in working with her – although we will have to decide what her level of authority is going to be. I don't think that was something that Aslan or our tutors ever mentioned."_

_Peter nodded. "I thought of that, Su," he assured her. "I was planning on getting your opinions tonight, spending tomorrow in the library looking for any idea of what the law has to say on the subject, and then once I have some idea, leaving for Anvard long enough to talk to Lune and Krisalyn. Two weeks or so, if you include traveling. The four of us will need to sit down and determine how the succession will apply to our spouses and any future children we have if it's not already in the law, but that's for later."_

_They turned to Edmund, waiting for his opinion. He still looked uncomfortable, but his words and tone were sincere when he spoke. "I liked her as well, Peter…but if she makes you happy, that's enough for me. You do so much for all of us and for Narnia – if she's the one that you feel is right, then I am not going to argue, because I trust your judgment."_

"Of course I remember that day, Lu. How could I forget?" Peter asked.

"I didn't say anything at the time Peter, but when you talked about your reasoning for wanting to marry her, even though you were being logical and explaining it all to us very seriously, I could see the fire in your eyes every time you spoke about her and why you loved her. I knew then that Krisalyn was the one that was the best possible choice for you, and you found her long before any of us realized you were looking for her."

The Valiant Queen reached over and wrapped her arms around her oldest brother. "Peter…you've never lost your faith, or done anything that could make anyone turn away from you, because you embody the faith in Aslan that makes Narnia his most beloved country. All of us are Narnia in our own way – and while I've heard most people say that you are Narnia's champion and her sword, I don't think that's all of it. The sword is just one part of who you are, and it's a part that we only see in times of danger, on the battlefield, when she's in danger. But the part of Narnia that you _always_ are is her faith. You remind us why we trust Aslan, and you restore the wavering doubts that people might have, just by being yourself."

Peter felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. "Lu…inside the circle, I questioned Aslan…I wondered why he hadn't come, why he had abandoned us. I wanted proof that he was coming, that he could help us restore Narnia. All the battles we fought before – I never felt the same dread over the outcome that I am feeling now with the approaching battle with the Telmarines."

"Aslan never asked you for blind faith," Lucy chided him. "All he asked was that you trust him, and you've always done that. It's all right to ask questions, to wonder, to want proof. Faith isn't static, and it isn't blind. You taught me that." She fell silent as she let Peter digest that. "Have you ever considered, Peter, that maybe this time he wants us to prove ourselves to him?"

Peter blinked at her. That thought had honestly never occurred to him. And the answer came to him. "That is what he wants from us," he realized, speaking the words softly. "He wants proof of our devotion. Things can't always stay the same, and the things that have happened have all been part of his plan, even though I don't like it."

Lucy smiled. "See? If you had truly lost faith, you would never have understood that. But you do understand, and that's a good thing." She rose to her feet. "I need to get back to the Council. I would suggest that you go find Caspian and work out your issues with him, and then bring him with you when you come to join us." She shook her head when he started to protest. "Peter, like it or not, Caspian does have insights into the enemy that we face. We need him. We don't need your input right now. Between Edmund, Glenstorm, and Oreius, everything is proceeding nicely. Go and sort out your differences with Caspian, then come and join us."

She bent over and kissed his cheek, before straightening and heading out of the chamber.

Peter sat there for several more seconds, before he rose to his feet. He started to reach for the Witch's wand to take it to a more secure location, but he paused. Turning around, he approached the relief of Aslan and knelt on the stone floor, bowing his head. He wished again that he had Rhindon to draw, but his borrowed sword would work just as well. Drawing it from it's sheath, he placed it tip down against the ground.

"Aslan," he began before trailing off. _How do I say this? _He needed to say something, if only to appease his own aching heart, but the words didn't seem to want to come. Finally, he settled for bowing his head and letting his heart speak for him.

Silently, he poured out all the feelings that had been plaguing him since he stepped back through the wardrobe without his wife and child. He apologized for not understanding that the Lion was always with him, and that silence didn't mean abandonment. He thanked Aslan for sending his incredibly wise sister to help talk him through what he was feeling and helping him to realize how stupid he'd been. He offered thanks that he was getting the chance for what he had longed for – to apologize and reunite with his wife, and to meet and get to know his daughter. Finally, he asked for strength to bring Narnia through this trial, if that was Aslan's will.

It was a silent torrent of emotion, with no real words in speech or thought. He offered his heart to Aslan, just as he had on the battlefield at Beruna all those years ago, allowing those wise eyes to judge him and determine if he was worthy of the honor and responsibility that he had been given.

A calm serenity filled him as he finished, and once again he realized that Aslan was still with him, that he had been forgiven, and felt that quiet hope that had been part of his life every day since they first entered Narnia. And he knew what they needed to do.


	23. Chapter 22: Complications

**Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm sorry for the late update. My muse has been nagging me to work on this story, but my insane work schedule hasn't given me a lot of opportunity to sit down and write. Fortunately the holidays are approaching, which means that there will be several nice long breaks coming up - and since I'm a substitute teacher, I get to take advantage of them as much as the kids do! *grin* With luck, I'll have another chapter up very soon.**

**Oh, and just a shameless begging moment here - I recently posted a companion piece/sequel to my story "Suffer With Him" which is entitled "Cast No Blame", and it has yet to recieve any reviews...if you are in the mood for a brotherfic (my first!) mosey on over there and drop me an encouraging word or two! *drops to knees and begs***

**Now, on with the story!**

_**Chapter Twenty-two: Complications**_

The commotion from up above had proved to be exactly what he needed. It had distracted the creature guarding him long enough for him to slip the thin-bladed knife out from between the leather and the hard sole of his boot. Larez had not risen to commander of the scouts, second only to General Glozelle, by not always having a trick up his sleeve.

Once he had the tiny knife in hand, he sat back and waited for the commotion to die down. These monsters would likely be far more alert if there was a disturbance in progress, and it would be harder to slip out unseen. Even though he had been captured, when he got out of here he would have plenty to report to General Glozelle and Lord Miraz. These _Narnians_ were fools – stupid as well as evil and monstrous. Oh, they had treated him kindly enough, seeing to it that his wounds were treated and that he was given food – no doubt in an effort to try to make him believe that they weren't evil – but they had not fooled him. They had not bothered to blindfold him while they were walking him down to the small makeshift cellar they were using to imprison him, so he had seen the entire layout of their so-called fortress. Nor had they tortured him for information. In fact, after they had tried to interrogate him outside when he was captured, he hadn't seen a sign of the traitor Caspian or the children who claimed to be Narnia's kings.

Slowly, carefully, he began sawing through the rough rope that bound his wrists together. The angle was awkward, since he had to keep the motion small and unobtrusive to avoid the attention of the guard. He shuddered every time the beast laid eyes on him. Such a monstrous creature, with the upper half of a man, and the lower half of a hairy goat. How could anything so deformed be anything but evil?

It took quite some time, but he finally managed to cut through his bonds. He hid the tiny blade between the palms of his hands, waiting for the right moment. His blade was so small, he was only likely to get one chance at this.

The guard moved close and made a quick glance over his bonds, and Larez was careful to make it look like he was still bound. Proving its foolishness once again, the guard didn't actually bend down to check the ropes. As soon as the beast turned around to resume its post near the door, Larez brought his feet up and used the blade to cut through the bonds around his ankles in one swift stroke. He jumped to his feet and lunged at the half-man just as it started to turn.

There was a brief struggle, but Larez had his knife and he didn't give his captor a chance to get it's weapon free from the sheath it wore. He drove the tiny blade deep between the guard's shoulders, staggering it, before yanking the blade back and stabbing again at the back of the neck. The blade sank through the skin and Larez twisted the knife before jerking it to the side.

The guard fell silently to the floor, still breathing, but unmoving, even though only a little blood came from the wounds. Larez, however, didn't care what happened to the monster. If it was fortunate, he would have hit something vital, and it would die soon enough. If it wasn't that fortunate, he probably severed it's nerves and it would simply lie there on the floor, paralyzed, until someone – most likely the next guard – came along and found it.

Larez bent down and removed the sheath from around the monster's waist, belting the short sword around his own waist. He wasn't going to try to fight his way out of here, but if he was left without a choice, he would act quickly and decisively. He was a scout, so he had no doubt that he could make it out of here without being seen. He hurried to the doorway and peered out into the corridor. There was no one out there, but he knew that wouldn't be the case as he got closer to the entrance.

Above all, he had to get back to the castle and report to Lord Miraz and General Glozelle. He knew where the Narnian resistance was based, and with that information, they could get rid of the beasts once and for all.

* * *

Peter moved through the corridors with a determined stride, in search of Caspian. They needed to settle things between them, so they could finish making plans. As much as it pained Peter to admit it – even to himself – his pride and his arrogance was what had damaged the tentative friendship between them, so it was Peter who would have to make the amends.

He finally found Caspian and Doctor Cornelius sitting on a ledge above the main entrance to the How. They were talking quietly, but they fell silent when they saw him standing in the doorway leading back into the How.

"Caspian, we need to talk," Peter said softly, coming out onto the bridge and taking a seat near Caspian, with his feet dangling over the ledge. It was quite an undignified position for Narnia's High King, but at the moment, he didn't give a whit about dignity or appearances.

"I suppose we do, King Peter," Caspian agreed.

An awkward silence fell between them before Peter broke it by clearing his throat. "I owe you an apology, Caspian. I said things that were hurtful and cruel to you – and I had no right to do so. They were unbecoming of my station, and all I can say is how sorry I am, and hope you will forgive me."

Caspian was dumbstruck for several seconds. The _High King_ of Narnia was _apologizing_ to him? When it was he, Caspian, who had done the worst wrong? Caspian sputtered for a moment, and tried to put some of that into words. "But…High King Peter…if anyone is owed an apology, it is you. I was too rash and impulsive and I didn't stop to think. I have done a poor job of leading your people, but I didn't want to admit it." Now he looked sheepish. "I am a prince – but in name only. I don't have any of the skills needed to become a King."

"And you think that is wrong?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow as memories of his own first year as a King surfaced. He had known less than Caspian, but it had all worked out thanks to good tutors and wise advisors.

"How can I be expected to lead well, if I don't have the skills?" Caspian asked, his tone incredulous. "I would be lucky if I wasn't overthrown in the first year."

"The Narnians would never do such a thing, unless you were a tyrant on the same scale as your uncle or the White Witch," Peter assured him. "But it would probably surprise you to know that Susan, Edmund, Lucy, and I were all in the same situation when we were first crowned, wouldn't it?"

Peter's words apparently shocked Caspian again. It seemed to be a perpetual state for the prince. "But – but King Peter! Your skills as a leader and a warrior are renowned!" Even Cornelius looked surprised at Peter's admission.

"I know what the Chronicles say about us," Peter told him gently. "They were written up before we were aware of what the historians – most of whom did _not_ fight with us against the Witch – said about us. They claim that we were four royal children from the land of Spare Oom, but that we were not directly in the line of succession, so Aslan called us to serve Narnia instead."

Cornelius and Caspian both nodded in agreement at the way Peter had neatly summarized the Chronicles from their time. Peter chuckled and shook his head wryly. "The Chronicles weren't shown to us before they were written, and by the time we realized what they said, it was too late to go back and have them changed without causing mass confusion among the Narnians. The truth, Caspian, is that before Aslan called us here, we were four ordinary, common children. We had no tie to our monarchs, and we had never seen King George. We knew absolutely nothing about ruling a country, commanding an army, or dispensing justice. We had less than a day of training before we confronted the Witch and her army at Beruna."

Peter realized that he wasn't exactly reassuring Caspian. It was apparent in the way the prince's eyes widened and the way his features paled so dramatically. It had been easier for the prince to assume that they had been trained to rule from a young age, which made their legendary status more bearable. But to learn that they were in a worse position than Caspian had been – and had done so much as a result – that made them even more legendary in his eyes.

"But how?" Caspian asked softly. "How did you become so good so quickly?"

"We learned, Caspian. We had very good tutors, and wonderful advisors. All the Narnians were so glad to be free of the Witch, and they were unbelievably patient with us while we fumbled our way through the first six months of our rule. But we didn't really become _comfortable_ until we had been ruling for a full year. Handling delicate negotiations and routine disputes became easier with time and practice," Peter told him with a smile.

Silence fell between them while Caspian digested that concept. There was a thoughtful expression on his face as he thought about what Peter was saying – and after a moment his expression brightened. Knowing what he now knew – that the Kings and Queens had once been in the same position he was, and had formed their legend over time helped him relax, because he didn't have to try to live up to their reputations right away.

Peter's smile faded. "I forgot how hard it was in the beginning for us, Caspian and I should have realized that you would probably know less about ruling than we did." He took a deep breath. "It was wrong of me to confront you and strip you of your right to lead the Narnians."

"I understand, King Peter," Caspian said sincerely. After a moment, he extended a hand, which Peter accepted readily. "There's no time for friction between us."

"Agreed," Peter replied.

Caspian lowered his hand, but regarded Peter seriously. "I do want to apologize for what happened at the Stone Table, with the Witch. I didn't know what Nikabrik was planning. I was only trying to help."

Peter shivered again at how close they had come to resurrecting the Witch. Caspian noticed and frowned. "I hate to ask, but I don't know much about the Witch, King Peter. What happened that would make it so bad to have her back?"

Peter stared at him in shock. "You don't know how she almost destroyed Narnia?"

Caspian shook his head. "All I know is that she was defeated by you and your siblings."

"You must understand, Your Majesty. Narnia is a forbidden subject," Cornelius said quietly. "Lord Miraz forbade any mention of it after the death of Caspian the Ninth. What little I've been able to teach the Prince I had to do in extreme secrecy, knowing that I would be imprisoned or killed if I was caught. All I could do was give him a brief overview and occasionally ask him to help in my research."

Peter nodded thoughtfully. He was silent for several moments, before he turned back to Caspian. "Jadis is the one thing that I wish I could bury forever. She nearly destroyed Narnia, and almost killed Edmund and I. Even the memory of her is evil."

He fell silent for several minutes as a myriad of expressions crossed his face. Finally he spoke. "A hundred years before we entered Narnia, Jadis cast a powerful spell across the land. It was a spell of deep winter and deep despair, and drained the Narnians of their hope. With the land ensorcelled, she called together the foulest, evilest creatures in the land and used them to enslave all the good and loyal Narnians. For one hundred years, Narnia was the land of eternal winter – but never was it Christmas, because the love and hope of the holiday would weaken her spell."

"And she tyrannized the Narnians for a hundred years?" Caspian asked, astounded at the thought.

Peter nodded grimly. "It came out later that the Witch was immortal through some deep magic or sorcery. Only Aslan had the power to kill her, but only at the appointed time."

"Appointed time?" Caspian and Cornelius asked together.

"For the longest time, there were two prophecies that foretold the Witch's defeat," Peter said. "I don't know when or where they first originated, but the loyal Narnians remembered them and clung to them, while Jadis feared them and tried to thwart them." Before either of his listeners could ask, Peter continued. "'When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone, sits at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done.' That prophecy was the one that referred to my siblings and I. The second went, 'Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes into sight. At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more. When he bears his teeth, winter meets its death, and when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.'"

He fell silent for several seconds, remembering the power and the confidence that had filled him the first time he heard Aslan's name spoken by Mr. Beaver. "Lucy was the first one to find Narnia, where she met Mr. Tumnus the Faun. He told her about the Witch, and helped her get away safely." He chose not to mention how close Tumnus had come to turning Lucy over to the Witch. Like Edmund's betrayal, it was a subject that had long been forgiven and buried. "Edmund followed Lucy into Narnia the next time, but he wasn't so fortunate. He actually met the Witch and chose to side with her."

"King Edmund? He who was named the Just, sided with the Witch?" Cornelius exclaimed. Caspian looked equally shocked.

"He later rejoined us before the battle against her army," Peter explained. "It came out later that she had enchanted him by offering him food and drink and acting kindly. She wanted to use him to lure all of us to her castle so she could kill us and avert the prophecy she feared so much, especially when she learned there were four of us. Later, when all four of us entered Narnia together, Edmund slipped away to join her, but he realized how evil she was and was taken prisoner. He was rescued by Oreius and several of the others, but…"

"But?" the two listeners chimed together.

"She was still determined to stop the prophecy, so she came to Aslan's camp and demanded Ed's blood, since he was a traitor."

Caspian looked confused. "Why did that matter?"

Peter exhaled slowly. "The Deep Magic, set forth at the Dawn of Time by Aslan's great father, the Emperor-Over-The-Sea, stated that the blood of any traitor belonged to the Witch for sacrifice. If she made a claim against the blood of one who had committed an act of betrayal and was refused, all of Narnia would be overturned and destroyed in fire and water. We didn't know what to do, and all I could think was to challenge the Witch for Edmund's life, even though I had never held a sword in my life prior to that time."

He shivered again, remembering her cold gaze and her mocking words as she stared at him, confident that Aslan could not refuse her claim without destroying everything he claimed to love. "Aslan took the Witch aside and spoke to her at length. Much later, we learned that he had struck a bargain with her. He offered himself in Edmund's place, and she renounced her claim on Ed. That night, she killed Aslan on the Stone Table, thinking that she could then kill the rest of us and claim Narnia forever. What she didn't know was that by killing Aslan, who was a willing, innocent victim, she invoked a Deeper Magic. For the blood of a willing innocent, sacrificed in the place of a traitor broke the hold of the Deep Magic and turned back death. Aslan was resurrected the next morning, and he, Susan, and Lucy freed all the Narnians that she had turned to stone and brought them to our aid. We had met her army in battle that morning, but we were barely holding on. Ed had managed to break her wand, but she stabbed him with the shards and almost killed him – would have, if it hadn't been for Lucy's cordial.'

"But you killed her in the end," Caspian said admiringly.

Peter shook his head. "Aslan killed her, as the prophecy said, 'When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death.' We were crowned after the battle, and ruled for fifteen years. Our legend wasn't formed in a day, or even a year. We simply did what Aslan asked of us, and were blessed because of it. The same will be true of you, Caspian."

The prince was silent for several seconds, before he looked at Peter in surprise. "You mean –"

"I mean I don't hold you to blame, Caspian. As for whether or not you'll rule Narnia remains to be seen. Not because I don't believe you can do it, but because I don't know who will inherit," Peter explained.

"I don't understand," Caspian admitted, puzzled.

"The woman who arrived with King Cor's army was my wife Krisalyn, and it turns out that Aislynn is my daughter," Peter told him. "I also don't know what Aslan intends for my siblings and I. We need to finish this and speak to Aslan before we discuss succession of rule."

Caspian nodded, although given the surprised look on his face, which Peter expected would soon be permanently affixed there, he hadn't known that Aislynn was Peter's daughter. After a moment he recovered his poise and held out his hand to Peter again. "Friends?"

Peter clasped it. "Friends." He released Caspian's hand and stood up. "We need to rejoin the Council and help plan the defense."

"Lead on, King Peter," Caspian responded, rising to his feet and turning to help his tutor rise."

* * *

Krisalyn moved through the passages of the How, following the directions that she had been given by one of the Narnians. In her hands she carried a makeshift tray with a meal for the Telmarine scout they had captured and his guard. She had volunteered to bring the food down to the prisoner so that the Narnians in charge of the food supply could continue preparing meals for the rest of the gathered group.

Even though she hadn't walked through the passages and caverns of the How for twenty-five years, she found that the apparently complicated system was quite easy to navigate, although invaders would no doubt be baffled, making them easy targets. She hadn't been here very much during the construction of the How, and she had not seen the finished product before the Telmarines invaded, but she had studied the plans of the layout extensively.

As she approached the small room that had been designated a holding room for the prisoner, Krisalyn frowned. She had been told that the guard would be stationed standing in the doorway, guarding the passage and the prisoner simultaneously. Yet no one was visible as she approached.

Her steps slowed and she hesitated. Where was the guard? "Hello?" she called, wondering if the guard was inside the room checking the prisoner's bonds.

There was no answer to her query, and Krisalyn paused long enough to set the food tray on the ground, her hand falling to the dagger Cor and Oreius had insisted that she carry on the trip from Anvard. She withdrew the sharp blade from its sheath before she moved forward.

She knew that she should probably go for help rather than put herself at risk in this fashion, but if the guard was hurt or bleeding he might die before she could get back with help. She couldn't imagine _how_ the guard could have been wounded, with the prisoner securely tied and disarmed, but there was always a chance.

She moved carefully to the doorway and looked in. The small room was completely open to her gaze, no shadows or nooks concealed from her sight. The very first thing she saw was the guard lying face down on the rocky ground, and the pile of cut rope lying less than a foot away. Of the prisoner, there was no sign.

Krisalyn moved swiftly to the guard's side and knelt beside him. She noted the two puncture wounds at the back of his neck and in his back. He didn't seem to be breathing, but she felt for a pulse nonetheless. No steady beat – indeed, no beat at all – met her probing fingers.

Peter and the others needed to know about this right away. The prisoner has escaped and the guard was dead. She rose to her feet, but paused and bowed her head. "Aslan, receive him into your country."

There was nothing more she could do for the guard. Turning, she sheathed her dagger and hurried out of the room and up the passage, leaving the tray behind. There was no time to stop and pick it up, or to return it.

Winding her way through the tunnels, she was careful to keep a calm, serene expression on her face. There was no point in instigating a mass panic among the Narnians or their allies. She had no doubt that the prisoner had already escaped, since most of the passages leading to the prison room had only one entrance, and she hadn't met anyone as she was coming down.

She quickly found the small side cavern which was being used for the war council's meetings. She stopped at the door and peered inside, seeing everyone bent over the maps that were spread out over the makeshift rock table. Krisalyn scanned the assembled group until her eyes rested on Peter, bent over the maps with Edmund, Cor, Corin, Caspian, and Oreius. The rest of the Council were listening to what they were discussing, or discussing troop deployments, supplies, or scouting reports.

"Peter."

All eyes looked up at the soft call, and there was a hasty scramble as those who were seated on logs or small boulders rose to their feet out of respect for one of their Queens. Those already standing, like Oreius or Tumnus, quickly bowed.

Peter's head had risen at the sound of his name and he rounded the table to move towards her. "Kris? What is it?" Her calm serenity didn't fool him – he knew her far too well.

"Something terrible has happened," she said, feeling the pressure of every eye on her as she spoke. She had wanted to just tell Peter, but she hadn't thought everything through – most unusual for her and a sign that she had been rattled, not only by Peter's presence, but by the discovery of the dead guard. She moved towards Peter and met him halfway across the room.

"Something terrible?" Peter repeated, reaching out and taking her hands to draw her close. She pulled back just before he drew her into a embrace, but didn't withdraw her hands.

"I volunteered to take food to the prisoner and his guard," Krisalyn said. "When I got down there I found the guard dead and the prisoner missing."

Peter's expression sharpened. "Larez escaped?"

Krisalyn nodded. "Some time ago, I would guess. The guard was cold when I checked on him."

"Damn," Peter swore softly – most unusual for him. One of the things that she had always admired about him was his dignity and his calm demeanor. His temper was slow to rouse, but once he was provoked past all reason, it was a frightening thing to see. Even when he was most angry however, the High King rarely indulged in vulgarity, as if he believed that it was unbecoming someone of his station and stature. "He'll have information about the How and our numbers, which will give Miraz better intelligence."

"We'll start a quiet search for the prisoner," Edmund said, coming over to where Peter and Krisalyn stood together. "If we're fortunate, the number of passages and people in the How will make him more cautious and we can catch up to him before he gets out."

Peter nodded and with that Edmund slipped out of the room, calling for several guards as hr went. There would only be a few guards looking for Larez. He would have to stick to the quieter areas of the How if he hoped to remain free. A few searchers could accomplish the task faster than if the entire army was alerted.

Peter looked back at his wife. "Are you all right, Krisalyn?" She seemed pale and tired, not her usual vibrant self and certainly not the amazing woman he remembered so clearly. The expression on her face was somewhat shaken, but calm – but it was just another sign of the differences between who she was now and who he remembered her being.

She managed a half-hearted smile before withdrawing her hands from Peter's grasp. "I'm fine, Peter. I'm sorry I interrupted."

"Don't be, Kris," he told her softly, wanting to reach for her again, even though the whole situation was suddenly very awkward. Touch was his way of showing affection for the people he cared about, but now things were different between him and Krisalyn.

Despite his memories of having been with her, kissing her, and touching her, that had been when he was an adult. Such contact was natural and expected between two married adults, but now he was sixteen again, and she was fifty-six. The sudden _physical_ differences in their ages made any contact awkward and uncomfortable, and it always would, even if he and his siblings got to stay in Narnia for years again.

Peter was suddenly struck with the memory of what Edmund had said to him back in England. _"__Peter, you're also making a big assumption…that Kris would revert back to being sixteen right along with you."_

In all his hoping, dreaming, and longing to be back with his wife, he had not stopped to think about Krisalyn continuing to age, despite Edmund's reasoning. Even if they had returned to Narnia right away – if they'd been able to step through the wardrobe and hardly any time would have passed – Krisalyn would still be in her thirties and Peter would still be sixteen again. The relationship that they had had in their past had been forever changed by their new circumstances.

Peter swallowed back a sudden lump in his throat as he realized that no matter what happened in the near future, things would never be the same again for him and Krisalyn.


	24. Chapter 23: Hard Decisions

_**Author's Note: *creeps out of hiding* Hey everyone! I'm so sorry that this has been so long in coming. My muse abandoned me again, and it's only in the last two days that I've been able to sit down and hammer out this chapter. I hope that it meets your expectations, and I hope I haven't lost any of my readers because of the delay.**_

_**Chapter Twenty-three: Hard Decisions**_

"There's no sign of him," Edmund reported to the grim-faced members of the war council. "The guards are continuing a quiet search, just in case we missed him the first time, but it looks like he made it away cleanly."

Peter shook his head and balled his right hand into a fist, resisting the urge to slam it onto the table in frustration. Not only would it do absolutely no good as far as getting Larez back, but it would hurt.

"That is something else that we _didn't_ need to happen now," Peter growled. Even with the reinforcements from Archenland, they were outnumbered. He and the rest of the Council had been poring over the maps and scout reports, in an effort to find some way that the Narnians would be able to win in a pitched battle against the Telmarines. But they had come to the conclusion that short of a miracle from Aslan, the Telmarines would likely win any battle that came to the How.

Peter's lips tightened as he glanced once more over the plans on the table. While they were all good plans, they weren't enough. They needed Aslan, and they needed time, two things that they didn't have. The plans that they had laid out were solid, and the Narnians and their allies were well on their way to making the preparations so that they would be ready when the Telmarines finally showed up.

"Edmund, come with me," Peter said finally. "We need to talk to Susan, Lucy, Krisalyn, and Aislynn." He turned to the rest of the assembly. "We'll be back soon. In the meantime, please keep working on the preparations."

Edmund nodded and followed his brother as they left the Council chamber. He didn't say a word as he walked alongside his brother, not even to question why Peter felt that they needed to speak to the rest of their family. Peter was grateful for his silent support. He knew his brother trusted him, and he was relying on that trust more than he had anticipated.

They found the rest of their family working quietly alongside the army, wordlessly carrying supplies, fastening armor, and pitching in wherever someone needed a hand, no matter how dirty the job. It was one of the many things that had endeared their people to them, the fact that the monarchs weren't afraid of hard or dirty work, and didn't hold themselves above their people.

Susan spotted them first and quietly rounded up Lucy and Peter's wife and daughter before leading them over to where Edmund and Peter were waiting. The Gentle Queen absently brushed at some dust that clung to her skirt as she looked at her brothers. "What is it?"

"We need to talk," Peter told her quietly. "We have some plans we need to discuss with you."

The four women nodded and followed the two Kings out into the corridor and into a smaller, quieter room away from the bustle of the rest of the gathered armies.

"There's no sign of Larez?" Krisalyn asked immediately, her eyes moving between Peter and Edmund.

"Not yet," Edmund replied. "The guards are still looking, but right now it looks like he got away."

"That's part of what we need to talk about," Peter added. "We've gone over every scenario we can conceive of, and even with Cor's forces, we're still outnumbered. We need more help."

"There aren't anymore Narnian forces," Susan said, her tone worried.

"And Cor has brought all the forces he can spare," Krisalyn added. "Archenland is in a bit of difficulty with Calormen right now. Fortunately, the conflict is still building, and my cousins left good generals in place to command the remaining troops if Calormen regains their courage and tries to make an attack while they're gone."

"We need Aslan," Peter said softly. "We've done everything that we can possibly do, and despite all our planning, I don't see any way we can come out victorious without Aslan's help."

"We've been praying for his help all along, but he hasn't answered us," Krisalyn pointed out. "We went to him right away when you first disappeared, but he remained silent all these years. Most of the Narnians have lost faith in him, I think."

"And that might have been the problem," Lucy said quietly. "Aslan acts when it is necessary, and not before. He could have defeated the Witch at any point during her reign, but he waited a hundred years, until he was ready to call to us before he acted."

Her family looked at her oddly. While it was true that Lucy, of all of them, was the one who had the strongest faith in Aslan, right now they were uncertain what she was saying.

Lucy looked between her family and smiled softly. "I told Peter earlier that the last time we faced an enemy of this magnitude, Aslan came to assist us and proved why we and the Narnians had faith in him. But this time, I think we need to prove ourselves to him. We've done what we could on our own, now we need to actually act to earn his aid."

Peter nodded in agreement. "That was my thought as well, thanks to you, Lucy." He took a breath, quickly running his plan through his head one more time before he mentioned it. He knew that they would be quick to point out any flaws, which was something that he deeply respected. "I think we need to go and find Aslan."

Dead silence met his announcement. Peter looked between them as they stared at him, apparently trying to figure out what he was talking about.

"What did you have in mind, Peter?" Edmund finally asked, watching his brother closely. It was a positive sign that none of them had dismissed the idea right out of hand, but now it was time for them to hear the rest of the plan and dissect it.

Peter took a deep breath. "On our way here, Lucy thought that she saw Aslan at the gorge near the Dancing Lawn, remember?" His siblings nodded after a moment's thought, while Krisalyn and Aislynn looked puzzled. "Lucy is the only one who has never had a moment's doubt that Aslan would help us – she's always trusted him, no matter what the situation."

Lucy looked like she was about to object to that statement, perhaps with a reminder about what they had discussed earlier, but Peter didn't give her a chance to say anything. "She's proven her faith in Aslan over and over again – and she was the only one who saw him at the gorge. I think, if anyone can bring him to our aid, it's you, Lu."

Susan's eyes narrowed. "How exactly do you propose she do that, Peter?"

Now for the part of his plan that they would probably have the most difficulty with – it was the part that he had the most difficulty with, since it would mean sending Lucy into extreme danger.

"We give Lucy a horse and we send her out to find him," Peter said. "On a fast horse, she'll be able to do everything except fly, since she's so light. If we can find some way to distract Miraz and his forces, she'll have a good chance to get through – and I have no doubt that Aslan will find her long before she reaches the gorge."

There was silence for only a heartbeat before Edmund and Susan burst out in protest.

"You can't think of sending her out alone, Peter!"

"Not a chance!" That came from Edmund.

"Fast horse or not, it's too dangerous."

Lucy didn't say anything as she waited for her siblings to stop protesting. Peter placed a hand on her smaller shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly, and Krisalyn and Aislynn wisely stayed out of the discussion. Even though they both had the right to discuss something that could impact Narnia's survival, they knew that right now this was between the four monarchs.

Finally, Susan and Edmund fell silent, running out of protests. Peter waited for two heartbeats before he spoke again. "I don't like the idea of sending her out there either, but I think it's the only choice we have. Ed, you and Su are both needed to help lead our forces, and if we send another Narnian, I don't think this will work, because I don't think they have the same devout faith that Lu does. I'm usually the first person to object to anything that puts her in danger, but we're out of time and options. Aslan is the only person we have in our favor that could turn the entire situation around."

"You can't send her out alone," Susan said firmly.

"You don't think I can do it, Susan?" Lucy finally asked. Even though Peter hadn't asked her about this before he brought it up, she wasn't going to object if it meant that she could do something to help her country and her people.

"I know you can, Lucy," Susan replied instantly. "But no matter what you learned from Oreius before, it won't do you any good while you're on a horse and trying to get past sentry lines – especially not now, while you're back to being nine again."

"What if I went with her?"

Dead silence again, before they turned as one to look at Aislynn, who had stepped forward with a determined look on her face.

"No."

Peter and Krisalyn both looked at each other; surprised that the same thought had left their lips simultaneously. There was a moment of awkward silence before Krisalyn turned towards her daughter. "You're the one person we can't afford to risk, sweetling. You're Narnia's future if we make it through this."

"I'm the heir," Aislynn said, setting her chin firmly. "But only by birth. Caspian has been more of a leader than I have since all of this started – and the Narnians know nothing about me. They have no reason to accept me as their rightful ruler, no matter that you and Father are my parents. I need to prove myself to them."

* * *

_Telmarine Encampment – Beruna Ford…_

Larez emerged from the edge of the forest, following the sound of voices and hammers to locate the encampment. He stepped out from the trees and was immediately stopped by the guards that were posted at the edge of the bridge closest to him.

"Identify yourself!" one of them snapped, reaching for the sword at his hip.

"Larez, Commander of the scouts," he replied. "I need to speak with General Glozelle and Lord Miraz immediately. I have important information about the enemy rebellion."

The guard nodded and saluted. "Yes, sir. I'll go and let them know you're here." He turned and headed across the bridge towards the command tents that were set up on the far side of the river. Larez watched him, noting the number of soldiers and siege weapons that were being readied for the assault. His information would come in good time, then.

While he waited, Larez thought back over everything that he had seen. Besides the Narnian beasts that were rising up against their rightful lords, the Archenland army had taken the advantage of the rebellion to align with them so that they could conquer Narnia and add it to their own kingdom. There could be no other reason for the King of Archenland himself being present at the rebel's hideout.

Such an act – sneaking into Telmarine lands and bringing a whole army with them – was grounds for a declaration of war. In the last twenty years, the Telmarines had been content with the lands that they already held, and had left those of Archenland in peace. Narnia was a relatively unsettled land, with plenty of resources and riches to last for quite a while. Archenland had said nothing when they settled here, so for them to act now was suspicious.

Not that it mattered. From what Larez had heard as he was escaping, even the combined forces of the beasts and the Archenland army weren't enough to defeat Lord Miraz and his men. It was only a matter of time before the threat was wiped out permanently.

"Commander Larez?"

Larez brought his attention back to the returning guard and nodded. The guard waved him on. "His Majesty and General Glozelle will see you in the command tent."

Larez hurried across the bridge, brushing past the guard on the way. Some members of the work force were adding the final touches to the bridge, checking it over for soundness before the army marched across. He approached the command tent, and one of the guards posted outside pulled back the flap to admit him.

Larez entered and quickly glanced around the small space before he bowed in front of the General and Miraz. "My lords, thank you for seeing me."

"You have a report for us, Larez?" Glozelle asked. "I expected word from you several days ago."

"I apologize for my tardiness, General. I was taken prisoner by the rebels and only just managed to escape after being held for several days. But I have important information relating to their forces."

"Report."

"I have located the main source of the Narnian forces. They are just across the bridge, about a few hours' march. A large hill that hides a series of caverns and dug-out passages holds the entire gathering of the enemy forces. Even more importantly, the King of Archenland has traitorously allied himself with the beasts and sent his army across our borders to join with them."

Larez looked away from Glozelle as Miraz – wearing a heavy golden crown on his head – rose to his feet, his fists clenched at his side. "Did you see this?"

"I didn't see the King himself, but I saw his forces and I heard the enemy talking about how he was meeting with the Narnian leadership. They're preparing to defend their meager little fortress."

"Caspian is there?" Miraz asked, his tone intense as he stared at Larez.

Larez nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Can you lead us to their base?" Glozelle asked briskly.

"Yes, sir." Larez replied, saluting sharply. "There was one other thing. When I was caught, Prince Caspian tried to question me, to get me to turn against our people. But when I wouldn't be swayed, there were two other young men who tried. One of them was dark-haired, about twelve or thirteen years old, and the other one was about sixteen with golden hair and blue eyes. The golden-haired one was…confident and quietly angry. Caspian referred to them as "Majesties".

"What did you say?" Miraz demanded.

"The older one claimed that they were the rightful Kings of Narnia. He said that they had been appointed and crowned by someone named Aslan, and that they had the authority to name Narnia's rulers, and could only be overruled by Aslan." Larez paused. "He also claimed that they had not granted any authority to you, Your Majesty."

Miraz's face went blank and cold with rage. "I want the army ready to assault their base within the hour!" he ordered Glozelle.

* * *

"Aislynn…" Peter wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't even sure he had any right to tell her what to do, given how new their relationship was. As the High King, he could order her to stay behind, to stay safe, but as her father…

Edmund tapped Susan and Lucy on the shoulders and indicated that they should leave the little family alone to work things out. Susan nodded and pulled Lucy with her as they slipped out, leaving Krisalyn, Peter and Aislynn alone.

Peter barely noticed that they were gone. His attention was fixed on his daughter. "You don't need to prove anything. You're the rightful heir. Whatever happens, the Narnians will accept you. You've more than proven your devotion to them in the way you've pitched in to help them in their time of need."

"That's not enough for me, Father." Aislynn's tone was urgent. "Until I met Aunt Lucy, I had no idea that I was the heir, and the Narnians seemed to have no idea that I existed. We're about to go into this huge battle…Mother saw to it that I was trained to defend myself, but that's not the same thing as fighting in a battle as a soldier." She paused and looked between both of her parents. "The one thing that I can do is help to protect Aunt Lucy. I want to help, and you don't want to send her out alone."

Peter glanced at Krisalyn questioningly. After a moment, Krisalyn sighed. "She does know how to defend herself Peter. I insisted on that as soon as I felt she was old enough. Oreius trained her to use a bow, sword, and dagger. If anyone can protect Lucy, it would be Aislynn."

"Please, Mother…Father. Let me do this." Aislynn pleaded. "I can do this." She paused and looked between them. "I need to do this."

"Aislynn, it's not that we don't think you can." Krisalyn's voice was gentle but firm. "We just can't afford to risk you."

"But if I am willing to take the risk, isn't that my right? Don't I, as Narnia's heir, have the right to do what is necessary to protect and defend my country and my people?"

Peter closed his eyes for a moment as his daughter's words echoed in his mind. They were so eerily familiar…

"_Lucy, what do you think you're doing?"_ _Peter asked as he crossed the training field to where Lucy stood with a short sword with one of the Fauns who helped to train the newest recruits to the army._

"_What are you talking about?" the thirteen-year old Queen asked, turning and lowering the sword that she was holding._

"_This. What are you doing?" Peter spread his arms out to indicate Lucy, the Faun, and the training field before he crossed his arms and waited for an answer._

"_Learning how to use a sword."_

_His sister's words were matter-of-fact and her tone determined. Peter frowned deeply. "Why? You don't need to. Oreius has already taught you to use your dagger and you know how to use a bow. Why do you need to know the sword?"_

"_I don't __**need**__ to know how to use a sword, Peter. But I __**want**__ to. I want to learn as much as possible to defend Narnia."_

_Peter was still confused by her reasoning. "Lucy…it's not your responsibility to ride out to the battlefield. That's why Edmund and I were appointed as Kings, and that's why we were assigned to govern the areas where trouble is most likely to come from. You don't need to defend Narnia in a fight."_

"_Peter, I am not just a pretty face that you and Edmund need to protect. I'm a Queen of Narnia, and like you, I made a promise that I would defend my country with all of my ability and strength. I have a right, as Narnia's Queen to do whatever I feel is necessary to fulfill that promise."_

Despite his and Edmund's objections, Lucy had gone on to learn the sword and even though she had never ridden out with them to the battlefield with the sole intent of fighting beside them, her knowledge had served her well. There had been twice when, on the way to administer her cordial to critically wounded Narnians after a battle, her party had been attacked by Fell Beasts and she had been forced to pick up her sword to defend herself until reinforcements could arrive.

Now looking at his daughter, with her blue-violet eyes and the determined expression on her face, Peter felt his resolve crumbling. In so many ways, even though he barely knew his daughter, she reminded him of his littlest sister. Lucy was stubborn and determined and she never took "no" for an answer, unless there was overwhelming evidence that what she was intending to do was ill-advised.

"Aislynn, as your father, I feel like I have to say no, and I'm sure that your mother feels the same way," Peter began, watching her closely. Her face fell and she looked upset and angry at his words. She opened her mouth like she was about to argue, but Peter held up a hand to halt her words. "But, as Narnia's High King, it's my responsibility to do whatever is necessary to defend Narnia and uphold Aslan's law, no matter what my personal feelings may dictate. This isn't going to be the first time that I've had to send someone out on a mission for the good of Narnia even though my feelings are telling me that I shouldn't."

He took a deep breath. "My heart is telling me that sending Lucy out is the only way that we can win this war. But my heart is also telling me that I have to do everything I can to protect her because she's my little sister." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. "I'll permit you to ride out with Lucy and find Aslan…but you need to promise me, Aislynn, that you will be careful and that you will come back safely." He blinked back the tears that pooled in the corner of his eyes. "We've only just found each other…and losing you would destroy me."

Aislynn seized him in a fierce hug. "Thank you Father! Thank you!" He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly for several seconds before she pulled away and embraced Krisalyn. "I promise, I'll be as careful as I can, and I'll do everything in my power to make sure that Aunt Lucy makes it back safely too…and that we find Aslan."

"I know, Aislynn…that's why I'm allowing this," Peter said quietly. He looked up at Krisalyn and met her violet eyes. He saw the worry and fear for their daughter buried there and he knew that she wasn't happy with his decision, but she also understood that they were in a desperate situation, and that only a desperate action would give them a chance to survive.

Aislynn let go of her mother and looked between her parents. Krisalyn looked at her and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Sweetheart, I need to talk to your father alone for a few minutes."

"All right, Mother," Aislynn nodded. She smiled at both of her parents before she turned and slipped quietly out of the room.

Peter took a deep breath before he turned and faced his wife. "Kris, I know that this is going to be hard for both of us, but we need to give her the chance. If I had any other choice, I would be keeping her here, where she would be safer, but we really are in a bad situation. We need to use every person and every resource that we have in the best way that we can. Aislynn has volunteered to do this, and I can't refuse just because she's my daughter and heir."

"I understand, Peter. Don't forget, I was raised a princess and trained to rule from the time I was old enough to understand my duty and responsibility. I understand the burden that ruling places on you and the way you have to weight your options and resources." She closed her eyes and let her breath out slowly. "But as a mother…as Aislynn's mother…all I can think about is her coming back hurt or dying…or not coming back at all."

"Kris…"

Her eyes opened and she leveled a look on him that withered him inside. This wasn't the woman that he loved so deeply and had been so devastated to lose. This was a mother, full of protective fire, and angry that she was going to have to watch her child being sent behind enemy lines in a desperate gamble that may or may not pay off.

"Peter…you don't understand. You weren't here. I raised Aislynn single-handedly. You weren't here to see her born, or to see her first steps, or hear her first word. You didn't have to deal with her questions about where you were, and why all of her friends had fathers and she didn't."

"I wanted to be, Krisalyn. All the time I was gone, I thought that it was a matter of months that were passing, and it was only four months for me. I came here, and I was expecting to find that you were still pregnant. I wasn't expecting to find a grown daughter. Missing out on her life…you have no idea how much pain that idea causes me." Peter replied.

"Peter…you're still my husband, and you're her father. I won't deny either of those things. Moreover, you're Narnia's High King, now and forever. That also cannot be denied…but don't you _dare_ pretend that you have any concerns about her as a father." Krisalyn's tears streaked down her cheeks as she fought her emotions. "Right now you have to think as a King, not a father. She is a grown woman…and you know _nothing_ about her."

Peter didn't know how to respond to this attack. Yes, over the years that they had been married, they'd had a few arguments, mainly dealing with how often Peter's duties and responsibilities had had to come first in their relationship. But she had _never_, even when she had been most angry or upset, attacked him in this manner. Some of her anger was justified, and he couldn't deny that her words were true, but the _way _that she said it…that was what hurt the most. Not her words, which were facts, but the tone in her voice, the bitterness and the anger she was trying to repress.

"Krisalyn…there's more to this than just allowing Aislynn to go with Lucy isn't there?" There had to be something more…he couldn't believe that she was getting this worked up about the decision when she knew the situation that they were in. There was no reason that she should be reacting this way.

He knew that he was right when she looked away from him and couldn't meet his eyes. Something more was bothering her and he didn't know what he could do about it. She was angry and upset…and husband or not, he wasn't sure he had the right to question her about it. He'd been absent from her life for too long.

He took a deep breath and gently walked over and rested a hand on her arm. "Krisalyn, whatever it is, talk to me. I can't hope to help you if I don't know what's going on."

"You can't help me, Peter."

Those words chilled him and he cast aside all his thoughts about Narnia and the upcoming battle as he focused solely on his wife. "Kris…"

"No, Peter."

"Krisalyn." He firmed his tone and left her no room to argue, just as he had when he had spoken to her after her arrival at the How. She could never argue with that tone, nor could she keep anything back.

She closed her eyes and suddenly looked weary and tired. The expression on her face literally froze him. "I'm dying, Peter."

_**Don't forget to read and review! I thrive on them, and the more I get the sooner you'll get another chapter.**_


	25. Chapter 24: Challenges

_**Author's Note: *pants tiredly* Whew. I think this is the single longest chapter that I've written for this story in some time. I totally wasn't planning on it going in the direction that it did, but once again my silly muses grabbed hold and wouldn't let go. I think I'm finally back in the rhythm of the story again (and of course, we're getting to the good parts) so the next chapter should come much sooner. Thanks to all of you who have stuck around with me this long. Hold on to your hats, because from here on out, it's going to get rough!**_

**_Oh, and I hope the middle section doesn't confuse anyone too badly. I split the flashback into two sections, both to show a time lapse in the scene (even though in my twisted world it all occured on the same day) and also to break up the action a bit. So don't be too confused! I promise, nothing is wrong with your computer or my formatting._**

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Four**_: _**Challenges**_

Edmund and Susan stood out in the corridor with Lucy while their brother talked with his wife and daughter about Peter's plan. They felt badly for their older brother, who had to be in a difficult position. While they all tried to look out for each other as much as they could, Peter had always felt that it was his responsibility, as the eldest, to protect them as if he was their father. Ever since their father had gone off to fight in the war, Peter had had to step forward to help their mother raise them. It had been a hard transition at first, but they had quickly come to realize that Peter only wanted what was best for them.

Now, Peter was faced with having to send Lucy, their youngest, sweetest sister – the one who had rarely fought and almost never seen the horrors of war – right out into the middle of the war zone where she would be in danger. Even worse, he now had to choose whether or not he would also be sending his daughter out along with Lucy, in a desperate gamble that may or may not help them win the war. Both of them knew how important family was to Peter, since it was just as important to them. But for Peter it was different. He had been an older brother and a surrogate father for years, as well as being a husband and a prospective father to his own child.

"Lucy, are you sure that you want to do this?" Edmund asked, reaching out and laying a hand on her shoulder. "There's still time to come up with a new plan."

"No there's not, Ed. I agree with Peter on this one. I'm the best choice to go. All three of you are going to be needed to lead the battle."

Before Edmund could respond, the small wooden door that separated them from the room where Peter was talking with his family eased open and Aislynn slipped quietly out of the room. She pulled the door closed behind her and turned to face them. "King Peter – my father – has given me permission to accompany you, Queen Lucy, if my presence would be of any use."

Lucy hesitated for a moment, before she nodded. "I would appreciate your help Aislynn."

"Lucy…" Susan tried, before she trailed off, unsure what she was going to say. What could she say to her sister and her niece? Both of them were mature enough to know what they were capable of doing, and they both knew how to take care of themselves, and they had the right to make their own decisions.

"Susan." Lucy replied, her tone even and determined.

Susan sighed. There was nothing that she could say that would convince her sister not to do this. Peter was right. It was the only possible choice that they had, and she knew that Lucy and Aislynn would not back down now that the decision had been made.

"What?!" Peter's voice rang out from inside the room, catching their attention. All four of them looked towards the closed door, the three monarchs showing surprise and alarm, while Aislynn only looked resigned and a little sad.

Edmund pounded on the door. "Peter? What's going on?" There was no answer from inside, and he moved to open the door, but Aislynn caught his arm. He turned to look at her and frowned as he caught sight of the expression on her face.

"They are going to need a few minutes," Aislynn said quietly. "We need to leave them to it."

"What do you know?" Edmund demanded angrily, his worry for Peter causing his tone to come out sharper than he had intended, and not caring in the least.

"Everything." Aislynn replied calmly, not flinching under the younger King's anger. "But it's for my mother and father to tell you. I expected that this would come up sooner or later, but I did think that she would wait until after the whole situation with the Telmarines has been resolved."

"Aislynn, what are you talking about?" Lucy asked.

"I can't tell you," Aislynn said, and her tone was genuinely reluctant and remorseful. "Please, don't ask me again." She looked back at the door for a brief moment, before her face crumpled and she turned and hurried off.

"Aislynn, wait!" Susan called after her. But Aislynn didn't respond or turn around. She disappeared around the corner, her footsteps fading. Susan looked at her siblings in surprise. "What is going on?"

* * *

"_I'm dying, Peter…"_

Hearing those words were like receiving a punch to the stomach and a slap to the face at the same time. For several moments, he felt like he couldn't breathe. All he could do was stand there and stare at her.

Krisalyn gazed at him sadly, her eyes filled with tears that she was trying unsuccessfully to hold back and running in rivulets down her cheeks. No matter what else was looming between them, she still loved Peter and would have done anything to spare him this knowledge. He had so much he was trying to deal with, she didn't want to add the extra burden to him – but she also knew that he needed to know. She literally had no idea how much time she had left. The healers had done everything that they possibly could do for her, and it wasn't enough. She'd already had several of her dizzy spells since leaving Anvard, although fortunately they had all occurred when she had been alone, so that no one besides Cor, Corin, Oreius, and Aislynn knew about them.

_Dying…dear Aslan, please no…_ Peter's thoughts raced, but that was the one thought that was most prominent in his mind. It couldn't be true. He had not just found her again only to lose her to death. And why would she possibly be dying? Yes, she was older than he was, but fifty-six wasn't _that_ old, not really. He could feel the weight of her gaze on him as she waited for him to process the news.

Finally, he managed to make his voice work again. "H-how? W-when?"

Krisalyn sighed heavily. "I've known that I was ill for almost two years, Peter. At first it just presented as minor dizzy spells and some mild exhaustion. I thought I was just working too hard. But it's grown steadily worse, and now includes some weakness and numbness in my hands, among other symptoms. The healers at Anvard have been treating me since it first developed. They've tried everything that they could think of – Narnian, Calormen, and Archenland remedies for the symptoms - but nothing has seemed to work for very long, and nothing has worked on every single symptom."

She fell silent for a moment, remembering some of the treatments. There had been poultices and herbal teas, changes in her diet, exercises for the numbness in her hands and feet… it had been never-ending for almost two years, with one round of treatment after another.

"The healers have pretty much given up hope of finding a cure, Peter. They can't think of anything else to try, but they don't know how long I have – or even if this is fatal."

A burst of hope pierced him. "So you may not be dying?" He knew healers all too well. Although they did everything to help, they hated to spread false hope. When the outcome was uncertain, they almost always tended towards the less optimistic view, in hopes of sparing loved ones the pain if an expected recovery didn't come to pass.

Krisalyn shrugged. "I don't know, Peter. All I know is what the healers have told me, and what I feel, and I feel that I don't have much time left. If the healers are right and the symptoms keep increasing in severity and occurrence, they give me a few years at best before the damage becomes permanent, and less if they get worse faster than they have over the last few years."

Peter let his breath out slowly. A few years…there was still time to find a cure. There was no need to panic yet. "I understand, Kris…but I want you to understand something…we will find a way to beat this. I am _not_ going to lose you again."

Krisalyn sighed softly. "Peter, you've made promises to me before. Don't make one that you can't keep. I've lost some of my faith. Perhaps 'Steadfast' was the wrong title for Aslan to bestow on me."

The soft, chiding tone and her resigned air stabbed him. "I…" he wanted to deny her words, but he knew it wasn't worth arguing. From her perspective, he had broken his promises. There was nothing that he could say that would force her to trust him again.

But there was something that he needed to say. "Krisalyn, I know it's been hard for you. I would never have wanted you to go through that. If I had known what would happen, I would never have gone after the Stag. That was my mistake. I should have stayed with you as soon as you told me that you were pregnant. For that…I am sorry. I know the words aren't enough, but I do want you to know that that decision will haunt me for the rest of my life."

* * *

Peter left the room where he and Krisalyn had been talking and almost walked right into his siblings. Edmund almost pounced on him. "Peter, what happened?"

"Not now, Ed," Peter said softly. Even though he had hope that Krisalyn and her healers were wrong, he needed time to process what she had told him. It had been news that he had not been expecting to hear, and he still needed to deal with the reaction to that news. He was being hammered from all sides, and right now he couldn't take the time or energy to work through all of it. He had to keep his focus on the most important thing – Narnia's safety.

"Peter…" Susan tried, but Peter gently shook his head.

"No, Susan. Right now it's between Krisalyn and I. She told me some things, and I need time to think about them before I share them." He took a deep breath and looked at his siblings. "Are we agreed that Lucy and Aislynn will be going to find Aslan?"

His siblings looked at each other for a moment, before they nodded. Peter nodded as well, settling a calm, yet determined look on his face as Krisalyn exited the room. "Let's go and tell the rest of the Council. Hopefully, with this plan, we can work out something that will allow us to hold off the Telmarines until they find Aslan."

Together, the five of them strode down the corridors to where they had left the rest of the Council. They needed to be united on this front if they were going to convince the Council to go along with it. Peter and Edmund might be legendary for their tactical planning, but this was truly a desperate gamble. While they had no doubt that Lucy and Aislynn would find Aslan and bring him to their aid, the question was if they could hold the Telmarines off long enough so that he could make it to the How on time.

As they walked down the corridor Peter could feel his siblings' eyes on him the entire way, but per to his request, they didn't query him or Krisalyn about what they had discussed. His siblings were respecting his right to privacy, especially when the information pertained to his wife and daughter, and he appreciated their respect.

Before they could reach the room where the Council was meeting, the sound of horns blew wildly from outside. Peter looked at his siblings, a mixture of alarm and dread crossing his face. If those horns meant what he thought they did, they had just run out of time.

Turning, they hurried towards the main chamber of the How, and Peter led them up to the ledge where he had spoken to Caspian earlier in the day. They were joined a few moments later by Caspian and Aislynn, while down below, in the field near the How's entrance, the Narnians and their Archenland allies began to exit as they strained to see what the commotion was about. Even from their place above the entrance, Peter could hear the dismayed mutterings and cries of their people as they caught sight of the Telmarine army.

From the far end of the field, the army was streaming out from the forest – rows and rows of men in identical armor, bearing swords, shields, spears, and crossbows. Huge war machines pulled by teams of strong horses were dragged into firing range, and the Telmarine cavalry streamed down the center, peeling off to the left and the right as they reached the front of the army to form ranks in front.

Then, from the back of the group, a single white horse emerged and walked slowly down the center. The rider was a tall, stocky man wearing armor that would have been identical to the rest of the army, except that it was gold instead of steel.

"Miraz," Caspian breathed as he caught sight of the rider. "The Council of Lords has done it. They've named him King…and he now has the full army at his command."

The expanse of the army that awaited them was overwhelming and despite the fact that they had known that they were outnumbered, Peter still felt a sinking dread in his stomach at the sight of the full army. He had hoped that, outnumbered or not, they would have been facing fewer foes. He didn't know if they could possibly hold them off long enough for Lucy and Aislynn to carry out their mission.

Peter looked between Caspian and his family. "Come. We have some planning to do. They won't attack yet. They want us intimidated. We need every second we can get."

Together, they turned and headed back into the How, calling to the Council members who had come to see what was going on.

They strode through the entrance of the Council chamber and arranged themselves around the table. Peter looked around the room, taking in the faces of friends, both old and new. Aislynn was waiting for them, standing near Tumnus and Oreius. He met Oreius' eyes and the wise Centaur blinked quietly at him before a small, confident smile crossed his face. Peter took a deep breath. "My friends, we think we have a plan. Admittedly, it is a bit of a desperate gamble, but it is the only way that we could see the chance for a victory over our enemies."

"Speak, King Peter," Cor replied quietly. "We will listen."

Peter paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I have no doubt that everyone here is fully committed to fighting our enemy when they come, however, no matter what passion we have, we are still badly outnumbered by the Telmarines. That has been the problem that has been overhanging us since the beginning." Nods all around as Peter neatly summed up what they had all come to realize. "What we need, more than anything, is Aslan."

A murmur ran through the Council at that. Oreius, Cor, Corin, Tumnus...they all held expressions of hope and loyalty on their faces at the great Lion's name. Trumpkin, Trufflehunter, Asterius, Caspian, and Cornelius on the other hand, wore expressions of doubt and skepticism. Reepicheep and Glenstorm appeared torn between the two sides, a mixture of emotions crossing their faces.

"Some of you may not know all the stories," Peter continued. "But it was Aslan who helped us win the day at Beruna, and it was he who defeated the Witch. But it has been so long since he last came to Narnia, and I know that some of you may have lost faith in him. His arrival at Beruna was what turned the tide in our favor, and I believe that he could do it again."

"But if he hasn't come in all this time, why would he come now?" Trumpkin asked.

"Last time he came and proved why the Narnians had faith in him," Lucy said quietly. "For years under the rule of the White Witch, they clung to the prophecy that said he would come, and he came. But since we left, things have gone wrong and this time there is no prophecy to cling to…and this time, _we_ need to prove that we have faith in him."

"Out of all of us, Lucy has always had the best relationship with Aslan," Peter said. "Not to mention, we believe he's here, in Narnia, waiting for us to seek him out. Lucy saw him near the gorge west of the Dancing Lawn." He paused for a moment, before he continued. "If anyone can find him, she can. She's going to take a fast horse and go in search of him."

Complete silence fell in the room as everyone processed this plan. Peter glanced at his siblings and his wife, waiting for the explosion that he sensed was coming. He half-expected it to come from Tumnus or Oreius, but it came from an avenue he had not expected.

"Cakes and kettledrums. That's your next big plan?" Trumpkin demanded, his eyes flashing. He pointed at Lucy. "Sending a little girl into the darkest parts of the forest alone to find someone who doesn't exist?"

A roar of protest met those words as the old Council reacted to the idea that Aslan didn't exist. For a moment, it was pure pandemonium as everyone fought to be heard. Those who had served alongside the Kings and Queens at Beruna, or, in the case of Cor and Corin, those who had seen Aslan during the Rabadash affair, yelled angrily at the obstinate dwarf. A few of the "new" Narnian Council yelled back, defending their comrade from the words of the others.

Peter allowed it to go on for a few seconds before he slapped his hands sharply down on the table, ignoring the sting as they impacted with the stone, as he roared, "_Enough_!"

The group fell silent, exactly as he had intended. He looked around the room for a moment before he spoke again. "It's our only chance. Aslan is the greatest power that we have, and he is the one thing that the Telmarines won't be able to counter."

"She won't be alone," Aislynn said, stepping forward. "I will be going with her."

Trumpkin still didn't appear to be convinced. "You're placing all of our hope in a desperate gamble."

"Perhaps," Peter agreed. "But the important thing to remember is that we haven't lost hope. I haven't, nor has Queen Lucy or my siblings." Peter straightened up, his golden crown gleaming in the flickering light, and for a moment, everyone who was in that room saw a glimpse of King Peter at the height of his rule. His voice rang out, and each word stirred something in all of them. "Hope is what brought Narnia through the subjugation of the Witch during the Hundred Year winter. Hope in a prophecy that no one knew for sure would ever come to fruition. Hope and faith is our greatest weapon against tyranny and ignorance."

He looked around the room again. "All of you have chosen to stand together, against the Telmarines and everything that they have done to you. There was a time, not so long ago, when I would never have believed that Minotaurs could work together with Centaurs, or that the Black Dwarves and Red Dwarves could cease their quarreling long enough to take up arms for a common cause. Outnumbered or not, we will meet the Telmarines at battle, and we will hold them off long enough for Lucy and Aislynn to find Aslan and bring him to our aid."

Silence fell over the room as Peter stopped talking. Everyone seemed to be considering his words.

"For Aslan!" Reepicheep cried, drawing his tiny rapier and holding it high before he saluted Peter and bowed deeply.

As one, the rest of the gathering unsheathed their various weapons and echoed Reepicheep's salute. "For Aslan!"

Peter nodded to them before turning his attention back to the table. "Now, we've made a lot of progress in planning this battle, but we need to turn our attention away from thinking in terms of victory, and start thinking instead about enduring until Lucy and Aislynn return."

Caspian suddenly stood up from where he was seated next to his tutor. "If I may?"

"Please," Peter and Edmund said together, before they both chuckled in amusement, which drew some laughter from the rest of the Council.

Caspian, emboldened by their response, stepped forward. "Miraz may be a tyrant and a murderer, but as King he is still subject to the traditions and expectations of his people." He paused for a moment. "There is one that may buy us some time."

Peter leaned forward slightly, interested. "Go on, Caspian."

Caspian took a deep breath. "Under Telmarine law, a King may be challenged by the ruler of another country or the leader of a faction to single-combat. Both leaders will agree to terms before the combat begins, and once the contest has been decided, the terms must be acted upon, or the rulers will lose face with their supporters."

Peter's face turned calculating as he saw where Caspian was going with this. "So if I challenged Miraz to single-combat…"

"No, Peter!" Krisalyn exclaimed softly, but he ignored her for the moment as he looked closely at Caspian.

"He would have to face you, or lose face with the Council of Lords. He would be branded a coward and he would lose all support with the army and the people," Caspian explained. "That's one reason why the Crown Prince is always trained in combat from an early age." He paused again. "I would rather be the one to face him, King Peter. I am the one that he truly wants."

"And that is the reason why you can't face him, Caspian." Edmund reached out and placed a hand on the older boy's shoulder. "This contest would be to decide your right to claim your throne. The proper thing to do is to have a champion fight in your stead…and there is no one more accomplished with the sword in single-combat than Peter."

Oreius nodded in agreement. "Challenges of rank are particularly tricky situations," he agreed. "As the challenged, Miraz must fight, but the challenger has the right to name a champion to fight in his stead. Sir Peter Wolfsbane is one of Narnia's greatest champions and – as King Edmund pointed out – one of the most accomplished in single sword."

Caspian looked between the general and the two Kings before he nodded and stepped back. Peter smiled at him, making a note to speak to him later, before the challenge began.

"So," Peter said. "We need to issue a challenge to Miraz." He looked around the room before his eyes settled on Cornelius. "Doctor, would you be so kind and scribe the challenge for me?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Cornelius said, rising and stepping over to the table, where he reached for a blank piece of parchment and a quill and ink. He poised the quill over the parchment, waiting.

"Peter, by the gift of Aslan…"

* * *

Krisalyn slipped quietly out of the Council chamber as Peter started dictating the letter to Miraz. She was desperately torn and she needed time to think before she could face Peter again.

Her feelings about Peter were in a tumult and she didn't know what she should think or feel. Twenty-five years ago, it had been easier. She had loved Peter with her whole heart, and never once had she felt any conflict in the matter. Oh they had had arguments and disagreements about things, but never anything that made her question her feelings for her husband.

But when she lost their unborn son, her faith and her emotional stability had been shaken. It had not been Peter's fault, by any stretch of the imagination, but her confidence had been shaken and her grief had been deep. Now, thinking back on it, that had been the time when their relationship had truly changed. Even though they had loved each other, the grief of that tragedy had always lingered like a shadow between them – and when she had found out that she was carrying Aislynn, the fear that it would happen again had been there too.

From that, Peter's disappearance and the long, lonely years had not done anything good for her. Aislynn had brought joy back into her life, but it wasn't the same thing. Every time she had looked at her daughter, she had seen Peter there, and again the grief and betrayal had reared its ugly head – so she had pushed her feelings down as deep as she could, and tried to remain cool and distant so that she didn't have to feel that pain as the long years rolled on. It had only been with Aislynn that she had been able to feel even a shadow of her former self, and she had loved Aislynn with her whole heart. She had tried to do her best to never give Aislynn a reason to doubt her love, and fortunately she had succeeded.

Now, Peter was back, and her emotions regarding him, so deeply buried were rising up and cascading over her again, and she didn't know how to react or respond to them. One part of her just wanted him to be gone again, so that she didn't have to feel this confusion, pain, and anger when she was around him. The other part of her still loved him with all her heart, and would do anything that she could to protect him, even though he didn't need her protection. The dichotomy was tearing her apart and making it hard for her to even breathe when she was around him.

She wasn't paying attention to where she was going, other than just to get away and find some place where she could find a measure of peace. She had to resolve the conflict in her heart, but she didn't know how. She was equally torn between her feelings and she had no idea how she could find her balance again.

Absently she rounded the corner and stopped abruptly as a wave of emotion swept over her again, causing her to sink to her knees and bury her face in her hands to stifle the sob that exploded out of her. The pain was so intense and heart-wrenching…it was all she could do not to collapse from the sheer agony of it – and it wasn't even a physical pain that plagued her now.

For the longest time, she cried, not even knowing what it was she cried for. Was it for her country and her people, deeply oppressed for these long years while she'd stood helplessly by, unable to do anything for them?

Perhaps it was for her daughter, who had been forced to grow up not knowing her father, but who was now willing to throw herself into the fight, risking her life on a desperate gamble that might not pay off.

Or maybe for Peter, who had seen everything he knew and loved destroyed, and had been unable to avert the disaster that plagued their country.

But no, she knew the truth, deep in her heart. It was for herself, for the pain that she had felt when she realized that Peter was gone and not coming back. For the pain she now felt as she tried to resolve her own feelings with her memories of a man who had loved her so deeply, and whom she had loved just as much.

What was she going to do?

* * *

_Anvard…thirty four years previous…_

"_My lady, have you heard the news?" Alana, Krisalyn's maid and dear friend chirped in excitement as she hurried into the suite, almost bursting with the news that she carried._

_Krisalyn looked up from her work with a frown, her mind still lost in the maze of requests and petitions that she had been looking over prior to the next morning's session of Court, where she would be sitting with her Uncle and helping him to adjudicate their people's requests and problems. Being the Crown Princess of Archenland was not all about parties and beautiful gowns, nor was it about privilege with no responsibility. It was, as her uncle and father had both told her more than once, a real challenge and one that would at times make her frustrated and angry, sorrowful and joyous, or simply relieved all at once. Being the ruler of a country was not an easy task, but it was one that Krisalyn had been trained for her entire life._

_Blinking several times before she was able to focus on her maid, Krisalyn slowly shook her head, bringing her attention back to the present. "What was that, Alana?"_

"_Have you heard the news, Highness? One of the guards just told me that High King Peter of Narnia is expected to arrive this evening. The guards at the border sent a messenger on ahead, and he should be here just before dinner!"_

_**Peter…**__ the thought of him brought a smile to her face. She hadn't seen him in two months, since she and her uncle had visited Cair Paravel for the Narnians' anniversary celebration of the coronation of their Kings and Queens. It had been almost a year since she had met the Narnian monarchs and become friends with them. Queens Susan and Lucy were wonderfully bright and joyful young women, and even though Krisalyn was older than they were, they were still a delight to know. King Edmund was calm and wise, much more than one would expect for a boy his age, and he always had some tidbit of knowledge or wisdom that staggered her when they spoke._

_But it was Peter who intrigued her most of all. So different in appearance from his siblings, with his golden hair and blue eyes a sharp contrast to their dark hair and eyes, he was…wonderful. He was kind and generous, with a streak of humor that never failed to make her laugh. He could be devious and innocent all at once – as she had observed multiple times when he and his brother would get together to play pranks on their sisters. At the same time, he never considered himself superior to anyone, and more often than not would bend over backward if it meant helping someone in need. More than once, she had seen him drop whatever he was doing and go to help someone, often times without even being asked._

_And yet, all of those traits vanished whenever he was on the training fields with his brother and the sword-masters of Cair Paravel. Then he was intense, and focused. Nothing could distract him except danger to his sibling, and he would have an aura of complete control and leadership, while he wielded his sword as if it was an extension of himself._

_Why was he coming to Anvard? Her uncle hadn't mentioned anything recently that would explain his sudden visit, and to be frank there was no reason for him to visit. Archenland had no celebrations coming up and anything of a diplomatic nature would have been sent via a messenger with the most recent dispatches from their ambassador._

_Before she could say anything more, cries from outside on the battlements caught her attention and she moved to the window to look out. Her gaze fastened on the gates as the guards heaved them open to admit a small party. Riding at the head of the party on a handsome black stallion, his golden hair shining in the late-afternoon sun under his golden crown was Peter._

_Just behind him, dark eyes looking keenly around was a tall black Centaur whom she knew to be General Oreius, leader of Narnia's army and the head of the royal monarchs' bodyguards. Just behind Oreius was a second Centaur, this one a handsome bay with reddish hair, and two Fauns._

_Krisalyn stood at the window, watching as Peter looked around the courtyard before he dismounted and allowed the grooms to escort his stallion away. Several of the guards and servants that were going about their tasks paused to bow to him out of respect and he returned their greetings with a nod and a smile. Then he looked up at the castle and she saw his eyes fasten on her window. The smile that crossed his face then sent a slow shiver of delight through her, and she didn't know why._

_Turning away from the window, she left Alana standing in her room as she hurried through the palace hallways. As Crown Princess, she was obligated to greet him and welcome him to Anvard. Halfway to the door, she met her uncle coming out of his study._

"_Uncle, did you know that King Peter was arriving today?" she asked him as she fell into step beside him. Did her uncle know something that he wasn't telling her? Or had it just slipped his mind as they dealt with all of the petitions that they would have to hear tomorrow?_

_Lune shook his head. "I only just found out from the messenger," he replied as they reached the main hall, where Peter and his escort stood waiting. As the High King caught sight of them approaching he offered them a bow of equals, acknowledging their status in their home._

"_Peter, welcome back to Anvard once again," Lune said warmly, returning Peter's bow as they drew close enough to hold a conversation._

"_Lune, Princess Krisalyn," Peter replied, that same dazzling smile that she had seen from her window crossing his face again. "I am sorry to arrive with such short notice, but something rather urgent has come up and I would like to speak with you alone, my friend," he continued, turning his attention to her uncle as he straightened._

"_Of course," Lune agreed immediately as he clapped the younger man on the shoulder and started to lead him away. Peter paused long enough to reach over and take Krisalyn's hand and kiss the back of it lightly before he turned and walked beside Lune._

_Krisalyn watched them go, unconcerned. If it was something that she needed to know about, her uncle would tell her immediately. There were some things, she knew, that had to be spoken of between two rulers before news could travel down to her. Her uncle never hesitated to tell her something if he felt that it was important for her to know about it. She was his heir, and it was – at the moment – her hands that would rule Anvard when he chose to step aside or died. Of course, she had very few doubts that that would actually happen, since he had married Lady Adelie six months past._

_Her uncle wanted children of his own, and she had no doubt that he would have them soon enough, in which case she would be obligated to step aside as heir in favor of her uncle's own children. To be perfectly honest, she didn't mind the thought of stepping aside. While she had been raised to serve her country and do her duty as the heir, being Crown Princess or Queen had never really been something that she wanted. While she could have abdicated in favor of her twin brother, her father and mother had raised her to take responsibility and serve if she was called upon – and she had been called upon to take on the duties of the heir._

_She shook her head to stop her woolgathering before she turned to General Oreius and the rest of the escort. "My apologies, General," she said softly. "If you will follow me, I will show you and your companions to rooms where you may rest and refresh yourself while the High King meets with my uncle." She drew on the formal words and actions to distract herself from wondering why Peter was here in the first place._

"_I thank you, Princess," Oreius replied, bowing his head graciously to her as she turned and began to lead them to rooms that were set aside for escorts and bodyguards near the room that would be given to King Peter for the duration of his visit._

* * *

"_**Daughter, why do you cry?" a gentle voice asked softly, the deep tone filled with sympathy and remorse for her pain.**_

_**Krisalyn looked up, rubbing at her eyes which were still filled with tears. As a result, it took her a moment to comprehend what she was seeing in front of her, and another moment to accept it while she wondered if she had finally lost what sensibilities she had.**_

_**Sitting in front of her, his tail wrapped neatly around his feet, except for the end which twitched and flicked against the ground every few seconds, was a golden lion who simply radiated power, love, and compassion. The gentle, kind face looking down on her, his eyes filled with sympathy and curiosity was one that she hadn't seen since her wedding day.**_

"_**Aslan?" she breathed, softly, half expecting him to vanish. "Is it really you?"**_

_**Aslan nodded, his face solemn and quiet as he waited for the answer to his question. The love and compassion that she sensed coming from him was so powerful that it was all she could do not to break down into tears again.**_

"_**Dear child, what reason do you have for crying as if your heart was broken?" the great Lion asked again when she couldn't formulate a response.**_

"_**I – I am so lost, Aslan," she murmured. "I don't know what I should think, or feel, and it is tearing me apart."**_

_**He stood and stepped over to her, leaning his head down and pressing his tongue to her cheek in a lion's kiss as his warm, gentle breath washed over her. "The heart, dear one, is a complicated matter."**_

"_**It's about Peter," she whispered, feeling the warmth around her like a comforting blanket that surrounded her and cocooned her, isolating her emotions and giving her a chance to voice them in a way that would make sense. "I am still so angry with him for leaving like he did and placing all the burden on my shoulders. Not just the burden of raising our daughter, but the burden of ruling Narnia and the uncertainty of knowing if I was doing the right thing or not. Part of me wants him to hurt and suffer like I do, and I know that I shouldn't, but I can't help myself. But another part of me wants to forgive him and welcome him back and put the past behind us. I'm so torn, and with the battle that is coming up, I don't know what I should do. If I stay angry at him, I'm afraid that he'll go off upset and distracted and he might die because he isn't focused on his task…but if I forgive him and he dies anyway, it will destroy me completely, because part of me can't bear to lose him again."**_

"_**You are feeling love, in its deepest, most powerful form, daughter," Aslan said after several moments of silence following her outburst. "It is the same love that made you give yourself to him when he asked for your hand. It is the same love that you showed to your daughter all these years. Love is never a thing to fear, and you should never reject it because of fear. The love you feel now is the same thing that I felt the night that I surrendered to the White Witch to spare King Edmund's life."**_

"_**But how do I reconcile my fear and my love?" she whispered. "I just can't lose him again."**_

"_**Give him a reason to fight if you fear his death in battle. Love of a country is a wonderful thing, but if Peter goes into battle unsure of your feelings for him, it could make all the difference." Aslan looked at her and a gentle, yet stern look came into his eyes. "You stood before me on your wedding day and pledged that you would remain true to him through all trials and blessings in your life together. The love in your eyes and the sincerity in your voice convinced everyone that you and Peter were meant to be together. Would you really throw that away over something that Peter had no control over?"**_

_**Krisalyn hung her head at he reminder of her wedding vows. Peter had already reminded her of them once – and the fact that Aslan felt he needed to remind of them as well was yet more evidence of how deeply troubled her spirit was.**_

"_**And this perhaps is the greatest trial that we will face – learning to love again," she whispered, understanding what Aslan was saying and slowly coming to the realization that she **__wanted__** to put the past behind them. Yes, it would be difficult, and the circumstances of their relationship had changed drastically from what it had been all those years ago when she swore herself and her love to Peter. But at heart, they were still the same people that they had been, and she still loved Peter with her whole heart. Clinging to her anger was pointless and it was her stubbornness and her unwillingness to forgive that was causing her such pain.**_

"_**Life is full of trials daughter," Aslan said softly. "There is no way to say that this one will be your greatest trial or not. Everything is constantly in motion, and the decisions that you make today will influence the things that will come in the future." He kissed her again, gently. "Find the peace in your heart that your love brings, and if Peter's story is meant to end here, let him go with love, not anger or bitterness, and know that you will be together again one day."**_

_

* * *

_

_Anvard…thirty-four years prior…_

"_Your Highness?" Alana tapped on her door to catch her attention. "Your uncle has summoned you to his study."_

_Krisalyn turned away from the window and smiled at her friend. "Thank you, Alana." Perhaps now she'd finally get some answers about Peter's unexpected visit. She crossed the room and exited out into the corridor. Her skirt swished around her ankles as she glided through the palace hallways with a deceptively graceful stride. Her curiosity was at a peak and she wondered what could have been so urgent that it brought Peter here unannounced and wanting to speak to her uncle alone._

_Reaching her uncle's study, she tapped on the door and waited for permission to enter. It came almost immediately, and she pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Uncle? You called for me?"_

"_Yes, my dear. Please, come in." Her uncle was standing in front of the cold fireplace, one hand resting on the mantel and the other rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Peter was seated in an armchair a few feet away, watching her alertly._

_Her uncle nodded as she reached the small sitting area. "I'll leave you two alone to discuss matters," he said, turning and heading for the door before she could say anything, pulling the door closed behind him. She stared after him, baffled and confused. Discuss matters? What did she and Peter have to discuss that would have brought him here so unexpectedly?_

_She turned back to Peter, who was still watching her, a quiet smile on his face. But as she looked closer, she could see something else flickering under that tranquil expression. She wasn't sure what it was and the uncertainty only confused her further. However, she took a deep breath before she spoke. "Your Majesty, was there something you needed to speak to me about?"_

_Peter rose to his feet and stepped closer to her. She was only an inch or two shorter than he was, and she only had to tip her head slightly to look into his blue eyes as he stopped in front of her. He swallowed nervously, gathering his courage before he addressed her. "Yes, there was." He took her hand and led her over to the chair where he had been sitting. "Please, sit down."_

_Still confused and uncertain as to his intentions, she sat down in his vacated spot. He crouched down beside her so that she didn't have to look up at hm. Her eyes fell on his hand, which was clenched inside an outer pocket on his tunic. She looked back up at him, waiting for him to speak._

"_Krisalyn, I know that what I am about to say to you may seem a bit forward, but I pray that you will hear me out before you say anything." He paused until she nodded in agreement. "We have not known each other for very long, but ever since we met, I have considered you to be a friend – one who understands the burdens and pressures of being a ruler."_

"_I consider you to be a friend too, King Peter," she replied when he paused again, using the slightly more formal title to deal with her confusion and nerves._

"_We both know that friendship…and even love can be difficult to find when you are royalty," Peter continued, sounding a little more awkward now, as if he was getting to what he really wanted to discuss. "But…every time I am around you, Krisalyn, I feel as if I am with someone who understands me…and cares for me."_

_She could only nod wordlessly, not sure how he wanted her to respond, or even where he was going with this. His mention of love only made her even more confused._

_Shifting out of his crouch and dropping to one knee in front of the chair, Peter pulled his hand out of his pocket, holding a velvet-wrapped bundle which he laid across his upraised knee. He unwrapped it, slowly, revealing a delicate necklace with a polished silver chain and a pendant made of rubies and pearls. He looked up and took one of her hands in his. "Krisalyn, I have no idea what your feelings are towards me, and I understand if you don't share mine…but I would be more honored and grateful than ever before if you would consent to be my wife and my Queen."_

_Words completely failed her. She had __**never**__ expected this. It was true that she did consider Peter and his siblings to be her friends, but there was a real difference between that and love. But as she stared at Peter, gazing into his blue eyes, a wave of realization swept over her. He was so different from any other man that she had ever known. Ever since she was sixteen and had officially taken on the responsibilities of the heir, every single lord – young and old – in her uncle's court had come courting her. There had never been a single spark of affection, caring, or friendship between any of them, for all their trying. But with Peter…it was different._

_From the moment they had first met, almost a year ago, she had been drawn to the young King. His entire attitude was such a contrast to the other men who had come seeking her hand. He had never, until this moment, said or done anything to make her think that he wanted anything from her other than friendship. His restraint and his obvious compassion for the people that he served and ruled, along with the love he had for his siblings had touched something deep inside of her. In the last year, although they had only seen each other a handful of times, he had been the one she had most wanted to see when she and her uncle went to Cair Paravel or the Narnian monarchs came to Anvard._

_Now here he was, offering her something that she had always wanted – the hope for love and a family – but had thought that she would never have because of her rank as heir. She believed that her uncle had been lucky to find Adelie, to find love when so often royal marriages were made out of necessity. And in that moment, she realized that she did love Peter. There was nothing about him that she didn't love or respect. She hadn't even noticed when friendship had turned to desire and love._

_Peter was still waiting anxiously for her answer, the necklace he was offering her as a betrothal gift resting on his knee. She gazed into his eyes and saw the uncertainty, the nervousness, and the hope he was feeling there. Leaning forward, she lightly brushed his golden hair back from his eyes in a caring gesture. "Yes, Peter. I will marry you." Her hand trailed from his hair down to his cheek before she leaned closer to him and lightly brushed her lips across his, catching him completely by surprise._

* * *

Her eyes ached and itched almost unbearably as she knelt on the ground, the last of her tears drying on her cheeks. Reaching up, she brushed the heel of her hand hard against her eyes in an effort to soothe the ache, in vain. She had cried until she had no more tears left to cry and still she felt empty inside.

Raising her head with an effort, she froze as she took in the sight of what was around her with her bleary eyes. A massive stone slab, bowed inward due to the crack that ran through the middle of it stood in front of her and just over the top of it, she could see Aslan's face.

She remembered with crystal clarity when they had first begun discussing the plans to build the How at the Stone Table. It had been on Oreius' suggestion that they buried the Stone Table at the lowest level of the How, in order to protect it. It was the most sacred spot in Narnia and no one had argued with his suggestion. Instead, they had found a way to make it into a place that was even more beautiful and sacred, by turning the chamber into a temple of sorts, with the relief of Aslan and his children carved all around the room, meant to be lit only by torchlight.

How odd that in her distress she would have found her way here through the maze of caverns that lay between the Council chamber and this sacred place.

"_**Give him a reason to fight if you fear his death in battle. Love of a country is a wonderful thing, but if Peter goes into battle unsure of your feelings for him, it could make all the difference."**_

The great Lion's words echoed in her head and she slowly closed her eyes as she remembered the peace that she had felt when she had been with him. It was the first time in a very long time that she had felt any measure of peace.

Aslan was right. There was no way that she could stay angry at Peter for something that hadn't been his fault. He had asked for her forgiveness, but she had been unable to give it, because she hadn't felt ready. But now, Aslan had shown her that she did have the strength to give him forgiveness…but more importantly she _wanted _to forgive him. She couldn't send him out to face Miraz alone with the shadow of her anger hanging over them. It would mean his death.

Rising to her feet, she paused for a moment and bowed to the carved relief on the wall, silently thanking him for showing her the way to her own heart.

Aslan had not forsaken them, nor had he forsaken her, even though she had done nothing to deserve his love and devotion…just like she had done nothing to deserve Peter's. Yet, like Aslan, Peter offered his love to her freely, with no strings. Even though she had been angry with him, he hadn't given up hope that she would forgive him.

It was the most precious treasure that she had, even more so than Aislynn's love. Aislynn loved her truly and purely, yes…but part of it was a daughter's love for her mother. It was a different bond between them than the one that she had had with Peter – one that she had almost squandered. Peter had been the first person that she had ever known who had offered her true love, and all the years she had known him, he had guarded and protected her, loved her and stayed true to her.

A precious treasure indeed.

Turning on her heel, she left the Stone Table chamber and headed up to the room where she had placed her things after her arrival. It was time to set things right, and restore Narnia to what it should be.

She wound her way through the caverns to her room and moved to the trunk that she had brought along with the army's supplies. It had been packed for twenty-five years – ever since she had fled Cair Paravel. Only once, in all that time, had she opened it – when she had removed Susan's horn and given it to Cornelius for him to take with him into Narnia on his mission. Back then, she had felt an urging to do so, although at first it hadn't been in their plans. But she had heeded the urging then, and she would heed it now.

Opening it now, she caught her breath at the sight of the item resting on the top. She almost reached for it, but after a moment pushed it aside. That wasn't what she was here for. Digging deeper into the chest, she extracted the items that she was looking for and piled them on the floor beside her until she could close the chest again. Then, ever so neatly, she stacked the items on top of the chest, laying them out properly.

Rising to her feet again, she went in search of her brother-in-law. She knew Peter, and she knew that he would be the one that he would have entrusted the right of challenge to. Edmund, of all of them, was the most gifted orator, and it would be he who would find the words that would get Miraz to accept their challenge.

But it would be even better with her gifts.

* * *

"Edmund."

The younger King turned at the sound of his name to see Krisalyn moving towards him. He wasn't certain where she had gone when she had slipped silently out of the Council chambers. He knew Peter had been concerned when she had. He had seen the look in his brother's eyes often enough to recognize it when he saw it, no matter how briefly it had been there. But since they had been busy working out the exact details of the challenge to Miraz, none of them had been able to go after her.

"Kris? Is something wrong?" he asked, a spike of alarm running through him as she drew closer and he could see the tell-tale traces of tears on her cheeks and in her red-rimmed and blood-shot eyes. She looked weary and…old. Older than she should at least, and his heart ached for her. He didn't know what exactly was between her and Peter at the moment, but when Peter was ready to tell him, he had no doubt that his brother would.

To her credit, she didn't react to his gentle inquiry. She stopped beside him, and for the first time since she had arrived at the How, her head was held high and she had a fire and a determination in her that he hadn't seen. Something had changed, but he didn't know what it was. "Have you delivered the message to Miraz yet?" she asked, neatly sidestepping his inquiry with one of her own.

Edmund shook his head. "Not yet. I was going to leave in just a few minutes with Glenstorm and Giant Wimbleweather. Peter is overseeing the final plans for Lucy and Aislynn's mission."

Krisalyn nodded. "Have you a moment to come with me? I have something I've been meaning to give you, and I think now is the right time. It will aid you in your mission."

Edmund frowned in confusion, but nodded and followed her as she turned and headed towards their sleeping chambers. She slipped through the makeshift curtain that had been hung up over the door of the girls' chambers so they could have privacy to dress, and held it open for him. His frown deepened, and he stepped inside.

He took two paces into the room before his eyes fell on a trunk that was sitting against one wall of the small room. But it wasn't the trunk that caused him to stop in his tracks and stare as she dropped the curtain behind him. It was the items that were sitting on it that arrested his attention.

Piled neatly, yet properly arranged on the trunk was a chainmail shirt, knee-high leather boots, a scarlet tunic emblazoned with the golden image of a rampant lion, a leather belt and gloves, and a leather collar with steel pauldrons. Propped up against the wall, in leather sheaths, were a pair of short swords and a long dagger.

He recognized all of it immediately. It was his armor from the battle of Beruna and the first few years of his rule. He hadn't worn it in years, since as he had aged it had ceased to fit him. But what was it doing here? He turned to face her in shock and she answered him before he could speak.

"When we fled Cair Paravel, we took the items that were most important to us, historically," she explained. "I insisted on taking the armor and weapons, even though they were heavy and burdened us down. I also have your other gear from the later years, but I do believe that this will fit you better at the moment."

Edmund looked her closely in the eyes. "Krisalyn…do you have Rhindon?"

She nodded. "It will be returned to Peter in due course. I have been its keeper these long years, and he will not go into this battle without his blade."

Rhindon…the sword of the High King. Ever since it had been given to Peter by Father Christmas, it had been an extension of his brother. Peter had never gone anywhere without the sword, and while, over the years, Edmund had gone through several swords as he grew older and stronger (or the weapons suffered unfortunate mishaps) Rhindon had always remained perfectly weighted and balanced for Peter.

Edmund was drawn out of his thoughts as Krisalyn took his arm and led him forward. "Come, my King. Let us outfit you properly for your mission." She held up the chainmail shirt so that he could slip it on.

Edmund smiled brilliantly at her and quickly shed the outer leather tunic that he was wearing over the blue shirt that Aislynn had given him. With Krisalyn's help, it didn't take him long to put the armor on properly. First the chainmail shirt, which tied in the back. Following that was the scarlet tunic, and then the leather collar and pauldrons. Had he been going out to battle and not a parlay, the collar would have been made of steel, to protect his neck. He tugged the boots on, marveling at the perfect fit. He and Peter had gotten one of the Centaurs to make them crude pairs of boots, which fit somewhat imperfectly. These however, were perfectly broken in and soft from the years of wearing them. After that he secured the belt around his waist and hung one of his swords from it. Although he was better with two swords than one, it would not be proper to come so heavily armed. The second sword and dagger he left propped against the wall. Finally, he pulled on the leather gloves and then turned to face Krisalyn, awaiting her verdict.

To his surprise, she curtsied deeply before him, in a way that she hadn't since they had first met all those years ago. Once she had married Peter, she had become family, and thus had no need to bow before them.

"Now you are ready, my King," she told him sincerely, before producing the letter that Peter had written to Miraz. Edmund blinked. When had she left the room and retrieved it? However, he took the scroll from her and slipped it into his belt.

"Thank you, Krisalyn," he whispered, feeling more confident of this plan now that he was again dressed as a warrior King. With his silver crown on his head and his familiar armor in place, he hoped that he looked more like a Knight of Narnia and not like a boy to be scorned.

As he turned to go, she caught his arm again. "Please, don't say anything about this to Peter," she breathed. "It is something that he and I must discuss when the time is right."

He hesitated for a moment, before he nodded. "I promise."

It was a promise that he would keep. His brother and Krisalyn deserved a chance to work things out between them, and one of the things that Krisalyn had always done was to help Peter put his armor on before they rode out with the army. It had been their small ritual before leaving Cair Paravel – as if putting the armor on Peter was her way of protecting him when he was far away from her – and Peter had never failed to come home safely when she had done so.

Perhaps it was a good omen that would continue to work for them before Peter went out to meet Miraz in battle. But now it was time for Edmund to do his part and issue the challenge.


	26. Chapter 25:Provocation, Promises&Prayers

_Author's Note_:_*creeps slowly out of hiding, half-expecting an insane mob to be waiting* I am so very sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! I never expected to go an entire **year** between posts, but my muse completely abandoned me. I watched "Prince Caspian" over and over again in an effort to entice her back, but it didn't work until today. Maybe it has something to do with finally getting to see "Voyage of the Dawn Treader", but something finally convinced my muse to come back._

_On a happier note, I am very pleased with this chapter, although I'll warn you now, it's very emotional. You might want to have a tissue (or ten) standing by. And one tiny disclaimer: Krisalyn's song in this chapter does not belong to me. It is the property of the amazing Twila Paris. I tweaked a couple of tiny things to make it appropriate for Narnia (changed one or two words, and omitted the chorus). The original song is called "Your Whole Life Long" and can be found on an amazing album of lullabies and bedtime prayers, which can be purchased on iTunes._

_With that said, on with the story!_

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_**Chapter Twenty-five: Provocation, Promises, and Prayers**_

_Telmarine encampment…_

Commander Larez was moving among the men, making sure that all was prepared for battle. The King and General Glozelle had decided to wait before attacking, in order to unnerve the Narnian beasts that were cowering within their pitiful little fortress. That would be half the battle won – not that they needed the advantage. Their forces were tactically superior to the Narnians and their allies. But a discouraged enemy never fought as well as a passionate one.

"Commander!" one of the men called out to him sharply. "Something stirs among the enemy!"

Larez frowned and moved toward the man who stood at the edge of the encampment. Drawing up alongside him, he looked out across the field, and for a moment, he wasn't sure what he was seeing. Reaching down to his belt, he removed the small spyglass that he had taken from the scouts' supplies to replace the one that the Narnians had taken from him.

Raising it to his eye, he focused on the movement, peering out to see what the beasts were up to. Perhaps they were going to surrender?

After a moment, he realized that three of the Narnians were approaching the Telmarine encampment. They were almost halfway across the field, and they had paused and were waving something aloft. Larez lowered the spyglass and looked to the man who had gotten his attention. "Send for General Glozelle and His Majesty at once!" he barked. The man saluted and hurried off in the direction of the command tent. Larez raised the glass back to his eye and looked again.

On the right side, one of the mismatched horse-beasts was standing alert and proud. The horse half of him was black as pitch, while the human half was that of a man in his mid-twenties, with wild black hair. On the other side was a horrifying creature, one that Larez had failed to note was part of the Narnian army. It was a man, but it stood almost seven times as large as any normal man. Larez honestly didn't know what to expect from such a creature and it frightened him. How would their men react if that _thing_ was in battle against them?

But it was the third figure that gave him the most reason to pause. It took a full minute for Larez to realize that he was looking at the younger of the two boys who had claimed to be Narnia's rightful rulers. Before, he had looked like a mere child, dressed in clothing that was slightly too big for him, with ragged, ill-fitting boots on his feet. But now…

The boy had changed. His ill-fitting clothing was gone, replaced with armor that appeared to have been molded to him – but it was not new, as if the Narnians were trying to impress. No, this armor bore all the signs of having seen hard use. The scarlet tunic that he wore gave him a noble, regal aura – a dangerous one. Larez swallowed nervously. This was a warrior, no matter his apparent age – but even more, he wore a crown of silver on his head – a crown that fit him so perfectly, there could be no doubt that it had been crafted for him, and it gleamed in the light, as if a star had come to rest on his brow.

"Commander, what is it?" Glozelle and the King had joined him. Larez quickly bowed, before he offered the glass to Miraz.

"The Narnians have sent some of their own under green branches," Larez said, indicating where they stood. Green branches…the traditional sign of safe passage and parley. If the King agreed to see them, they would have safe passage through the camp to bring the message they carried, and then safe passage to return to their own forces once the meeting was complete. "The one in the middle is the younger of the two who tried to interrogate me and claimed to be one of Narnia's rulers…and looking at him now, I would almost believe it. He has a dangerous air surrounding him. I should not like to meet him on the field of battle."

Miraz raised the glass to his eye, wanting to scoff at the commander's words, until he caught sight of the one that his scout leader spoke of. And though he would never voice it out loud, he almost had to agree with the younger man. Something about that warrior Knight – it sent a chill through him.

"Perhaps they intend to surrender," Glozelle ventured, looking out at the envoys.

Miraz lowered the glass and shook his head. "No. They are much too noble for that." He handed the glass to Glozelle and started to turn away. "Commander Larez, you will go out and meet them. They are to have safe passage to the command tent."

Larez bowed swiftly. "Yes, Your Majesty." As the King and the General hurried away, Larez called to two of the men and gestured for them to join him. Together the three of them strode out towards the middle of the field where the Narnians were waiting.

As they approached, Larez felt the eyes of the boy on him. When they stopped a few feet away, the boy was the first one to speak. "Commander Larez, we meet again. I bear a message from the Narnian leadership for Lord Miraz."

Larez only nodded wordlessly. He studied them for a moment, paying close attention to the giant man, noting the weapons that they bore. "My lord has agreed to grant you safe passage under the banner of green branches," he said calmly. "But you must leave your weapons here."

"Nay," the boy said firmly. "Under the provisions of war which detail the rules of parley through green branches, we are each permitted one weapon for our own protection as we enter your camp. We shall not draw them, lest we be threatened first, however. You have my word on that."

Larez was impressed by the child's knowledge of the laws of war. The demand had been a challenge, and the boy had answered without hesitating. Whatever else he was, he obviously knew the laws. "You shall follow me. My lord waits for you in the command tent."

The three Narnians nodded and followed Larez and his men towards the camp. As they grew closer and the Telmarines caught sight of Wimbleweather, there were mutters and cries of alarm, but no one moved to attack as they noticed the green branches carried by the Narnians.

* * *

Edmund wasn't surprised to see Commander Larez when he strode up to meet them at the center of the field. It took all of his royal training to maintain a stoic façade when he really wanted to scowl at the man. There was no telling what information the man had gleaned from his stay and escape – and no way to know what he had told Miraz.

The demand to put their weapons down didn't surprise him in the least. It was a formal nicety, a test to see how committed they were to the parley. He smirked inwardly to himself. There was no way that he would fall for the challenge – and Larez had to know that. He didn't hesitate with his response since giving in now would put them on a bad footing with the Telmarines, which would put them in a position of weakness during the upcoming negotiation.

As Larez led them towards the command tent, Edmund's eyes darted around, taking stock of the preparations the Telmarines were making, noting the number of siege weapons, and makeshift forges for sharpening weapons, along with the troops that were milling about, going about their tasks.

Larez stopped shy of the command tent and turned to face them. "I shall announce you to my lords. What name shall I give?"

Edmund thought about it for a moment, wondering if he should give them his full title, before he answered. "Edmund the Just, of Narnia."

Larez nodded stiffly and went inside the command tent. It was more of a pavilion, Edmund could tell, with tables set up for Miraz and his men to work out strategy. There were no sides to the tent, probably to avoid the stifling heat that would come from as many people as were currently sitting there.

Edmund turned to Glenstorm and Wimbleweather. He caught the Giant's attention by waving at him, and when Wimbleweather bent down to hear, Edmund spoke in a low tone, mindful of the two men who had come with Larez to escort them.

"Be wary, and take note of as many details as you can," Edmund said quickly as he noted Larez returning. "Peter and the others will need as much intelligence as we can bring them."

Glenstorm nodded in understanding. Looking up at the Giant, the Centaur quietly ordered him to take a seat. With Wimbleweather looming over everyone, he was very intimidating. While that had been part of the plan of sending the Giant with them, they also didn't want to unnerve the Telmarines to the point that they would attack out of fear, which they were known to do.

Wimbleweather slowly lowered himself down, but the ground still trembled violently as the Giant sat, which made several of the nearby Telmarines cast nervous looks towards them.

Larez returned just then and indicated that Edmund was to follow him. Edmund nodded curtly and followed the scout towards the pavilion. He stepped up to the small speaker's area that was in the center of the three tables that had been set out for Miraz and the Council of Lords.

"Your Majesty, my Lords…Edmund the Just of Narnia," Larez said, bowing before he backed out of the tent and waited to be summoned when the meeting was over.

Edmund didn't bow. He was not going to show a fraction more respect for the usurper than was absolutely necessary, and no matter what the Telmarines believed, Edmund outranked all of them, since he had been chosen as one of Narnia's Kings by Aslan himself. He kept his eyes on Miraz, but didn't fail to note the other eleven lords who sat at the table, nor the man who stood behind him and to his left.

To be honest, Miraz was not what he had been expecting. The man was tall, but stocky. He was dressed in the same leather clothing and steel armor worn by the rest of the Telmarines, rather than the gold armor he had been wearing before. He had a full beard that gave his face a pointed appearance, and dark eyes set under thick, dark brows. His sword was lying unsheathed on the table in front of him, but he sat back, somewhat relaxed and at ease, as if trying to signify that Edmund was of no concern to him.

Inwardly, Edmund scoffed at the man. For all of his posturing and posing, it was apparent that he wasn't fully comfortable with his new rank. Edmund recognized the signs clearly. Fifteen years of ruling, and dealing with any number of nobles and merchants who felt that they had to act more intimidating than they actually were had given him all the experience that he needed to assess Miraz in only a few short seconds.

About the only thing that Edmund noticed that he did respect was the muscle that was underneath the slightly stocky appearance. Whatever else years of acting as regent had done for the man, he was obviously not going to be a pushover in the single combat. For a moment a flash of worry assailed him as he thought about Peter facing this man, and he fought to keep his face expressionless. Peter had faced more than his share of men and creatures that outweighed him over the years, and he had never failed to come out victorious. Oreius hadn't been lying or exaggerating when he told Caspian that Peter was one of the best champions in the single sword that Narnia had ever seen.

"What message do you carry?" Miraz asked suddenly, breaking the staring contest that they had been having as he gestured towards the scroll tucked into Edmund's belt.

Edmund reached for the scroll and unrolled it. He quickly skimmed the greeting with his eyes, a lesson that his oration tutor had drilled into him so that he wouldn't stumble over the words, as he took a breath and began reading. "Peter, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, High King over all Kings in Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, to Miraz, Son of Caspian the Eighth, sometime Lord Protector of the Telmarines and now styling himself King of Narnia, greetings."

He chanced a quick glance up to see Miraz's reaction to Peter's words. As he expected, the man looked quietly furious and affronted. Edmund didn't have time to see more as he looked back at the parchment. "In order to prevent the effusion of blood, and to avoid all other inconveniences likely to grow from the wars now levied on Our realm of Narnia, it is Our pleasure to advance Our royal person on behalf of Our trusty Caspian, tenth of the lineage, in clean wager of battle to prove upon your Lordship's body that the said Caspian is lawful King under Us in Narnia, both by Our gift and by the laws of the Telmarines. Second, the challenge shall thus prove your Lordship is twice guilty of treachery, both in withholding the dominion of Narnia from said Caspian and in the most abhominable, bloody, and unnatural murder of your kindly lord and brother King Caspian, Ninth of that name. Wherefore, We do heartily provoke, challenge, and defy your Lordship to the said combat and monomachy. The fight shall be to the death and the reward shall be total surrender. Thus have We sent these letters by the hand of Our well-beloved and royal brother Edmund, to whom We have given full rights of speaking in Our Name and on Our behalf. Given at Our lodgings in Aslan's How this twelfth day of the month of Greenroof in the year 1039."

Edmund lowered the scroll and quietly began rolling it up while Miraz fumed and glared at him with those smoldering dark eyes. For a moment he seemed to be having difficulty controlling himself, but after a moment he relaxed and though he continued to glare at Edmund his attitude was more passive. Again, Edmund noticed that Miraz's entire being was a pose for the other Lords that sat around them, and he was interested to see how he would react.

"Tell me, Prince Edmund…"

"King."

Miraz paused, caught off guard. "Pardon?"

Edmund smirked, loving how with a single word, he was able to effectively derail Miraz's thoughts, thus throwing him further off balance. "It's _King_ Edmund, actually. Just King though. Peter's the High King." He stifled a laugh at the puzzled looks on the men's faces. "I know it's confusing."

Miraz tapped on the arm of his chair for a moment before he finally spoke again. "Why would we risk such a proposal when our armies could wipe you out by nightfall?"

_We wouldn't go down that quickly,_ Edmund thought derisively, scoffing at the thought that the battle would go so smoothly in the Telmarines' favor. Apparently they had never learned the lesson about cornering a desperate foe with everything to lose. "Haven't you already underestimated our numbers?" he asked instead. "Only a week ago, Narnians were extinct."

Miraz frowned deeply at the reminder. "And so you will be again."

Edmund resisted the urge to smirk. Despite his casual attitude, Miraz was hooked. Winning this battle would secure the throne for him forever, because there would be no one to challenge his authority. The temptation for that kind of power was irresistible to him. Now all that was left was to provoke him further so that he would stop thinking logically and start reacting emotionally. "Well, then you should have little to fear."

Miraz laughed, and this time there was a note of scorn in his voice. "This is not a question of bravery."

_Hook, line, sinker,_ Edmund thought triumphantly. Raising the rolled up letter, he pointed it at Miraz as he spoke, the gesture becoming a taunt that he knew the man would not be able to ignore. "So you're _bravely_ refusing to fight a swordsman half your age?"

His words wiped the scornful smile off of Miraz's face as the usurper leaned forward menacingly. "I didn't say I refused."

One of the other Telmarine Lords who was sitting a few chairs down from Miraz spoke up suddenly. "You shall have our support, Your Majesty, whatever your decision."

A second lord spoke up as well. "Sire, our military advantage alone provides the perfect excuse to avoid what might otherwise –"

Miraz, in a move that caught Edmund by surprise as well as the rest of the Lords, leapt to his feet and seized the sword that was resting on the table in front of him. "I'm not avoiding anything!"

Edmund's eyes narrowed and a faint frown crossed his face as he watched this exchange. There was more going on here than Caspian and the rest of the Narnian leadership were aware of. Well-used to the manipulative efforts of those who would try to seize power or the upper hand in a negotiation, he realized that the Council of Lords might have given Miraz the throne, but they still didn't trust him to lead them, nor were they above scheming to take his place at the first opportunity.

The same lord spoke up again after a moment, his tone meant to placate. "I was merely pointing out that my lord is well within his rights to refuse."

Miraz continued to glare at the man, but before he could say anything, a new voice spoke up. It was coming from the man who was standing behind Edmund, on his left. "His Majesty would never refuse. He relishes the chance to show the people the bravery of their new king."

Miraz's glare turned on the new speaker before he slowly looked back at Edmund. "You." Raising the sword, he pointed the tip at Edmund's heart. "You should hope your brother's sword is sharper than his pen."

Edmund smiled darkly at the perceived threat. "Oh, I can assure you, Lord Miraz," he again refused to acknowledge the usurper's rank, "it is more than sharp enough to decide this battle." He paused and allowed his words to sink in. "We are agreed upon the terms? Total surrender to the winner, and to the death?"

Miraz nodded. "Agreed."

"Shall the combat be held at four marks past the noon hour, at the ruins in front of the How?" Edmund asked. It was only just nine marks past midnight, which would give them seven hours to make the preparations. With the sun in the sky until nearly eight marks past noon during these late summer days, the battle should be long concluded before sunset. The ruins would make a perfect battlefield for the duel, since they consisted of a paved floor, surrounded by a few tumbled down walls, but they were open enough that both armies would be able to view the fight with ease.

Miraz nodded again and Edmund returned the nod. "You and your contingent will have safe passage to the ruins, with no need for the green branches to signify your intent. Under the rules of single combat, you will be permitted to bring three men with you."

Miraz's gaze narrowed at the thought of Edmund lecturing him on the rules, but Caspian had explained everything about the Telmarine tradition while they had been drafting the challenge letter and working out their strategy. Fortunately, the Telmarine rules didn't differ that greatly from the Narnian ones.

Edmund nodded his head stiffly. "I shall bear your acceptance to the High King and he shall meet you on the battlefield at the appointed time." Turning on his heel, he stalked gracefully out of the command tent to where his companions were waiting for him, passing Larez as he went. The commander hurried after him, since his job was to escort Edmund's party safely out of the camp, but Edmund wasn't interested in waiting.

Glenstorm was waiting for him, and Wimbleweather rose to his feet as Edmund approached. Edmund took the branch that Glenstorm had been holding for him and together the three of them strode back to the edges of the camp, Larez and his men scrambling to keep up.

"Your Majesty, how –" Glenstorm began, but Edmund shook his head sharply, cutting the Centaur off. He didn't want to discuss what had happened while they were still within earshot of the Telmarines.

Fortunately, Glenstorm understood and fell silent as they left the Telmarine encampment and headed back across the field that separated the How from the edge of the woods. As they reached the halfway point of the field, Larez and the other two soldiers stopped, while Edmund and his companions continued on, back to the How.

When they were a safe enough distance away that there was no one who could overhear them, Edmund turned to Glenstorm. "He accepted. The combat will be held at four marks past noon. Bring word to my siblings, please, and let them know that I will meet them in the planning chamber shortly." The Centaur would be able to carry the message to Peter and the others much faster than Edmund could – and it would give him a chance to change out of his armor as he had promised Krisalyn.

Glenstorm bowed his head. "Yes, King Edmund." Shifting into a trot, the Centaur general took off, heading into the How. Wimbleweather also headed into the How, leaving Edmund alone with a rough bow once they were inside. Edmund immediately headed for the girls' room so he could put his gear away.

He found Krisalyn waiting for him, and the expression on her face caused a frown to cross his. In the years that she had ruled alongside them, she had been as good – if not better – than they at concealing her emotions behind a serene countenance, since she had been trained in such things her entire life. But now her face showed an odd mixture of calm tranquility and anxious fear and it sent a similar jolt through his own body.

"Did something happen?" he asked as he started to shed his gloves and the pauldrons and collar he was wearing.

"No, nothing that I'm aware of," she told him, a look of confusion joining the already volatile emotions crossing her face. "Did Miraz accept Peter's challenge?"

Edmund nodded. "He took the bait. There was not a single chance that he was going to let a perceived insult like the letter Peter sent him go unanswered." He turned his back to her so that she could help him remove his tunic and mail. The combat will be held at four marks past noon today."

Krisalyn was silent for several seconds as she helped him out of his armor. "Edmund, may I ask a favor of you?"

Edmund glanced over his shoulder at her before he turned to face her. She held the over tunic he'd been wearing earlier out to him and he shrugged into it. "Of course, Kris."

"Will you…will you watch out for Peter?" Krisalyn's voice was soft and uncertain. "During the combat, I mean? I know you can't interfere…but…if there's anything you can do…" Her violet eyes were anxious and filled with desperation that he'd never seen from her before.

"Kris…" Edmund sighed. She was asking the impossible and she knew it. "You said it yourself. I can't interfere with the duel. Whatever happens, it's going to depend on Peter's skill, or Aslan's grace to determine the outcome."

"I just…I can't lose him again, Edmund. I won't be able to stand with him during the combat. Even if Peter allowed it – which I know he won't – I wouldn't be able to watch. I believed that I had lost him once and it nearly destroyed me. I – sending him off to a fight to the death…" she turned away from him abruptly and buried her face in her hands. A sob racked her slender frame and made her quiver all over.

Edmund's heart wrenched. He loved his brother more than he had words to describe. Peter had always been there to protect them, help them, give them council when they needed it – he had taken over the role of their father when they first arrived in Narnia, and over the years that had slowly faded back into the role of an overprotective big brother. He would do anything to keep Peter safe, including die for him, although he knew that if he did that it would destroy Peter.

But Krisalyn…she loved Peter as much if not more than either he or the girls. When they were together, during the years of their rule, they had both seemed to complete each other. The love and the passion between them had been obvious in the way they looked at each other. Their love had been conveyed over and over through a gesture or a gentle touch – and when they had danced together at feasts and parties, everyone watching had noticed that the world had seemed to vanish for their High King and his Queen. It was one reason why seeing the tension between them now was so hard to bear. Edmund knew that Peter still loved Krisalyn as deeply now as he had when they had first married.

Hesitating for a bare moment, Edmund stepped up to Krisalyn. She was taller than he was, and for a moment it was disorienting, since he remembered a time when they'd been nearly the same height. He had intended to touch her shoulder, but was forced to settle for touching her arm instead. "Kris…Peter's the best duelist in Narnia. Miraz might outweigh him, but I suspect that Peter's the better trained – and you know he will do everything he must to survive. He won't leave you alone again – and he won't leave Aislynn now that he's met her. He loves you both so much."

"There's still so much that you don't know. Peter and I both have a great deal that we need to work out between us – and that's why I need you to look out for him. I – I have faith that he'll get through the single-combat." She paused for a moment and a small sob escaped her. "It's the battle that I _know_ is coming…that's what I most fear." Her voice was thick with tears. "The Telmarines cannot be trusted, Edmund. Even if Peter wins, they'll find _some_ way to launch an attack, I just know it."

"I do too, Kris," Edmund said quietly. "So does Peter. He's not actually expecting the Telmarines to surrender; he's just trying to buy time for Lucy and Aislynn to find Aslan. We know that the battle is coming, and so does the rest of the army. He won't be caught off-guard. Oreius, Glenstorm, and I will all be standing with him as the Marshals of the lists." Edmund stepped around his sister-in-law so that he could look her in the face. "We cannot interfere in the duel, but we'll protect him as much as we can."

Krisalyn nodded and took a deep breath as her hand – shaking slightly – came up to wipe at her eyes. "I know you will, Edmund. Thank you."

She turned and headed for the door, and Edmund turned back to begin putting his armor away. It was only a moment though, before he heard her grunt and he turned back. Krisalyn was leaning against the wall, one hand braced against it as if that was the only thing keeping her upright. Her other hand was passed in front of her eyes in an absent-minded gesture that sent a thrill of alarm through him. "Kris?" He hurried over to her side and took her arm to steady her as she looked like she was going to slide to the floor. "What's wrong?"

"I'm – fine," she said, her voice distant and vague. "Just…just a little dizzy. It…it'll pass in a moment or two."

Edmund glanced around and spotted a chair in the corner. Well, in reality it was a large piece of stone that had been carved to form a flat seat. Conditions in the How were rough, and there was no real furniture to be found, but it would do for the moment. He carefully pulled Krisalyn back to her feet and guided her over to the "chair" and helped her to sit before he knelt in front of her.

Her violet eyes were distant and unfocused, and she continually seemed to want to pass her hand in front of her face, as if that would help her focus on something. "Krisalyn, how long has this been happening?"

"Hmm?" Her voice was as distant as her eyes.

"Kris!" he sharpened his tone, trying to help her focus on something. "How long have you been feeling dizzy? You said it would pass…this must have happened to you before. How long has it been happening?"

She blinked dazedly once or twice more before her eyes came back into some degree of focus. "Edmund?"

"Yes, Kris. What's wrong with you? Is this the reason Peter was so upset before?"

Krisalyn looked acutely uncomfortable, but she nodded slowly. "I've been having these dizzy spells for some time," she told him quietly. "The healers at Anvard have been trying to treat me for them, somewhat unsuccessfully."

"How long has this been going on?" Edmund repeated.

"Two years," Krisalyn told him, looking even more uncomfortable. "The healers have tried several different herbal remedies, changes in my diet, and exercises, but nothing they've tried has been a long-term success. They took me off of all the treatments a few days ago, to let me recover from the different treatments before they tried anything new."

Edmund's eyes narrowed. That wasn't like the healers he knew. No healer would completely stop a treatment unless there was literally nothing more that they could do and continuing a treatment would only prolong the patient's pain and suffering. For the healers to stop all forms of treatment meant that they didn't know anything else that could be tried and they were quietly advising the patient that there was no hope, and all the patient could do was wait to die. It went against everything that a healer believed in to take that step, because healers were some of the most tenacious and stubborn-willed folk that he knew. They couldn't stand to see anyone suffer if they could do anything to help.

Before he could say anything, or voice his suspicions, Krisalyn seemed to anticipate what he would say. She looked him in the eyes, clarity and focus having fully returned and nodded slowly. "Despite what they say, I know the truth. There is nothing more they can do for me, Edmund. Whatever time I have remaining rests solely in Aslan's paws."

Edmund couldn't believe that. "But you and Peter just found each other again!"

Krisalyn nodded again. "I know. And it will be difficult when my time finally comes, Edmund. Peter will no doubt feel the loss deeply, as will Aislynn. But they'll have each other, and they'll have you, Susan, and Lucy." She offered him a tremulous, not entirely convincing smile. "I'm all right, Edmund. I have come to accept it. My only desire is to see Aislynn claim the throne that is rightfully hers and to see her and the Narnians content before Aslan calls me home. I may not be ready for it, considering everything that has happened, but Aslan will be waiting to welcome me, and Peter and I will meet again someday. That's enough for me."

Edmund shook his head wordlessly. "There must be something…" he trailed off, a frown crossing his face as he pummeled his brain, trying to think of something that could help his sister-in-law. Peter wouldn't just be _upset_ when Krisalyn died – he'd be devastated by her loss. Leaving her behind in Narnia when they had returned to England had all but shattered him – only the faint, tenuous hope that they might return to Narnia had allowed him to hold on until Caspian had summoned them. But if Peter lost Krisalyn now, to death of all things, it would completely destroy him, and Edmund didn't know if anything alive – even his daughter – would be enough to save his spirit.

Then, something occurred to him. "Kris…you have Rhindon…do you also have Lucy's cordial?"

Krisalyn nodded. "Of course, as well as her dagger and Susan's bow and arrows. I had Susan's horn, until I gave it to Doctor Cornelius to use to convince Caspian when it was time for him to reveal the existence of the Narnians. Why?"

"Have you tried taking Lucy's cordial to heal you of whatever is making you ill?" Edmund asked, his face and tone intense.

"I –" she trailed off. "No, I haven't."

"Maybe that's the key!" Edmund said. "The cordial can restore someone to full health from a wound – I see no reason why it couldn't also heal a disease."

Krisalyn looked deeply thoughtful. "I never considered it," she said slowly. "All of these years, I've considered myself the guardian of those treasures that we spirited away with us when we fled – and in twenty-five years, I've opened the chest that holds them but once before today."

"You should definitely consider it, Kris," Edmund told her gently. "It could solve all of your problems."

She nodded slowly, in agreement. "I will speak to Lucy about it," she promised. "The cordial belongs to her, and I will not use it without her consent – and she may know for sure. I know Peter's feelings on the cordial and how precious it is."

"Lucy wouldn't care," Edmund told her. "And despite Peter's feelings on the subject, if Lucy knew you need it, she wouldn't hesitate to give you a drop, no matter what Peter has to say. Peter might be upset, but in the end he would thank her, if it meant that he wouldn't lose you."

"Perhaps. Right now I am not in any immediate need, and I would prefer that everyone keeps their mind on what they must do. Lucy needs to be focused on finding Aslan, Peter needs to be focused on the duel, and you and Susan need to worry about keeping Peter safe." She smiled wanly at him. "But I promise I will consider it."

Edmund nodded and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it gently. "I swear I'll do everything I can to help Peter."

She returned the gentle squeeze on his hand, her violent eyes welling up with tears. "I know you will, Edmund. The one thing that Peter – and I – always could count on was your devotion to him." She rose to her feet, no sign of the dizziness this time, and pulled him up with her. "Go to him, Edmund. He'll need your information. I am going to find Aislynn and Lucy and speak to them. But, if you would, send Peter here when he's going to prepare for the fight."

Edmund nodded, understanding. Krisalyn had always helped Peter don his armor before he left Cair Paravel for a battle, and each time she had, he had returned safely. It was their little ritual, and he had no doubt that it would work for them again. But if by chance something _were_ to go wrong, they would have a chance to say whatever it was that needed to be said. He had seen her reaction, and Peter's, and he knew that things were not completely perfect between his brother and his sister-in-law, and all he could hope was that their love was strong enough to pull them through the difficulties that they were enduring.

_Both of them swore to use their love and the blessings from Aslan to endure all trials and suffering that their lives would bring, and to do it __**together**__,_ Edmund reminded himself. Of the four of them, he was the least romantic and poetic – but even he had been touched by the simplicity of the vows Peter and Krisalyn had sworn before Aslan and all of Narnia on their wedding day – and he hadn't failed to note that they had kept those vows, honoring them as the most sacred promises that they could make to each other. Knowing that Peter had found someone like Krisalyn to share his life with had given Edmund hope that all four of them could and would make good marriages one day.

"Kris, are you sure you're all right? Peter would never forgive me if I left and something happened to you," Edmund asked.

She smiled at him. "I'm certain, Edmund. The vertigo comes and goes at unpredictable intervals, but I've been coping with it for two years. I've never lost consciousness or struck my head as a result – I just lose my sense of balance and my awareness of where I am for a few minutes. Peter and the others will need you. Go."

Edmund nodded again, hesitated at the doorway, and then moved out into the corridor. Knowing what he did now, he understood Peter's terseness earlier, after he and Krisalyn had discussed sending Aislynn with Lucy. He also understood the expression that he had seen on Aislynn's face. She was frightened for her mother, but she knew everything that was going on. There was no way that she couldn't. She was afraid of losing her mother, but she was trying to be strong, and she was putting Narnia's needs first – she had even before she had learned that she was the heir to the Narnian throne. The choice between family and duty was tearing at Aislynn, but she was doing what she must – sacrificing her personal desires for her people, as a true Queen must.

_Aslan, if it be your will, keep Aislynn, Krisalyn, and Peter safely in your paws and see them through this struggle. Let them emerge on the other side with hearts, lives, and love intact. They are your children, and they deserve a chance for happiness,_ Edmund prayed silently as he hurried through the corridors. It wasn't far from the chambers where they had been sleeping since their arrival to the room that was being used for planning this campaign.

When he entered the planning room, he found Susan, Cor, and Corin waiting with the Narnian Council, both Old and New. He scanned the room but didn't see Peter, Aislynn, Caspian or Lucy among those that had gathered. He frowned for a moment before he remembered that Peter, Lucy, and Aislynn were probably planning out the route that Aislynn and Lucy would take to reach the Dancing Lawn as quickly as possible. Edmund didn't believe that they would have to go all the way there before Aslan found them, however. The very act of riding in search of him should be enough to draw Aslan to them, provided that their hearts were true and sincere.

"Edmund!" Susan called as he stepped up to the table. "Glenstorm told us Miraz accepted the challenge."

Edmund nodded. "Aye, he did. The combat will be held at four marks past noon, at the ruins out in front of the How. But I think there is more going on here than we were aware of."

"How so?" Cor asked, curiously.

"Where's Peter?" Edmund asked instead.

"He should be here momentarily with Lucy, Aislynn, and Caspian," Corin said. "They went to look over the horses and find one that was swift enough to carry them through the Telmarine sentry line unscathed."

"And we did," Lucy said, entering the room with Peter and Caspian behind her. "Caspian has graciously loaned us the use of Destrier."

"Destrier is one of the fastest and strongest in the royal stables," Caspian explained. "Carrying Queen Lucy and Princess Aislynn will be nothing for him."

"Where is Aislynn?" Susan asked.

"She and Queen Krisalyn wished to talk for a few minutes, alone," Caspian explained.

"What word, Ed?" Peter asked.

"He'll meet you on the field of battle at the fourth hour," Edmund said, "at the ruins outside."

Peter nodded, his mouth tightening into a straight line. "What did you think of him, Ed?"

Edmund chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment as he thought about his impressions of the man. "He definitely outweighs you, and he's taller, so he'll have a slightly longer reach than you do. He's definitely been trained to fight – I saw some muscle on him – although it seems that he hasn't had to do a lot of fighting as of late. He seemed to be reaching that point when he's just starting to creep past his peak as a fighter."

Peter nodded again, his blue eyes turning thoughtful. "That was my impression of him when I saw him at the Cair."

"Although he is a prince by birth," Caspian inserted, "he did fight with the army. He was among the army at the time that my people invaded Narnia. A Telmarine prince is expected to serve with the army for at least five years, whether or not he is in line for the throne, so that he'll understand the workings of the army if he must lead them into a conflict."

"So he was trained to fight then," Peter said.

Caspian nodded. "Up until a year or so ago, he sparred regularly with General Glozelle, and the two of them are quite evenly matched. General Glozelle was my weapons instructor as well, and I know that he's good."

"Peter is better," Edmund said.

"We don't know that, Ed," Peter cautioned. "I'm younger, but I'm also not at the peak of my strength and stamina the way I was when we left Narnia."

"Peter, Miraz was trained by a Man," Edmund argued. "You were trained by a Centaur, Fauns, and Dwarves, and you sparred with so many others during our reign. They all have different styles that you incorporated into your own."

"King Edmund is correct, Your Majesty. You learned our styles as your talent and your own abilities grew," Oreius added. "You have a broader foundation to stand upon than the usurper does, and you will likely know techniques that he does not."

Peter shrugged, somewhat self-deprecatingly. Edmund frowned deeply at his brother's response. He knew that Peter was trying to keep the Narnians from getting their hopes up too high – it was just barely possible that Miraz was the better fighter, after all. But Edmund knew just how good his brother was. Peter didn't like to brag about his ability, but on the battlefield, Peter had an aura about him. It wasn't the same as his royal aura that he used when in formal court or during negotiations. That one, although powerful, was subtler, meant to enforce his authority as High King. On the battlefield, however, Peter became a completely different person, and his aura had changed as a result. Rhindon had become an extension of his arm, and the power and strength of his aura had been so great that Edmund knew of several instances when Peter's simple appearance on the field had been enough to cow Narnia's enemies into surrendering, rather than watch their forces decimated by Narnia's Champion. Peter was Narnia's Sword, and like Rhindon, he was made of steel that shone with its own light and struck swiftly and cleanly when he was provoked. On the battlefield, Peter was Narnia's, and Aslan's, and he moved at their bidding and their need.

Deciding that it was wiser to change the subject, however, Edmund cleared his throat. "There's more. I think Miraz's initial response would have been to refuse the challenge, even after I provoked him. He's confident in the superiority of his army and their numbers."

"So?" Peter asked, raising one eyebrow as everyone looked at Edmund.

"The Council of Lords truly doesn't trust Miraz. There were two of his Lords who…" Edmund paused, looking for the words that would describe what he had sensed. "I'm not really sure how to describe it. They almost seemed to be _encouraging _Miraz to refuse, but there was a tone in their voices that was goading him into _accepting_ at the same time."

"Reverse psychology?" Peter asked.

"Almost," Edmund agreed. "But it was more subtle than that. I noticed it because of all of the dealings that we used to have with those stuffed shirt merchants from Calormen, but I don't think Miraz even realized what they were doing. If he did, he hid it really well."

Caspian looked thoughtful. "Where were they sitting?"

"One was on Miraz's right – the seat right next to him in fact," Edmund said. "The other was…two seats to the left, I think. I didn't catch their names, but then there was also a man who was standing behind me. He wasn't part of the Council as far as I could tell. He was definitely a soldier, but a high-ranking officer."

"The officer was probably General Glozelle," Caspian said. "He's served in that position ever since my father died, or so I've been told. The man on the right – that would have been Lord Sopespian. After my Uncle, he's the next highest ranked member of the Council, and if something were to happen to Miraz and to me, he would be the next in line for the throne, and would probably be named regent until my cousin was old enough to take the throne. The other lord…I'm not sure."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "It seems as though Lord Sopespian may have deigns on the throne as well."

Caspian huffed out a tiny breath. "That doesn't surprise me. The entire Council is very ambitious. They are always looking for ways to undermine each other. Before my cousin was born, I was only a few months away from being crowned, and I was already planning on replacing the lot of them after I was named King. They may have served my father for the short time that he was King, but I never trusted them, nor did I particularly like them."

Edmund shook his head. "I wouldn't be surprised if there was some form of treachery that we'll need to watch for, in addition to whatever Miraz tries during the combat."

"You expected anything different, Ed?" Peter asked.

"Not really, no."

* * *

_Elsewhere in the How…_

Krisalyn found Aislynn, Peter, Lucy, and Caspian looking over the horses that they had available after she left Edmund. The four of them were examining one particularly large and strong looking stallion, and Caspian was affectionately stroking the stallion's nose as they studied him.

"Are you sure, Caspian?" Lucy was saying as Krisalyn drew within earshot.

"I'm certain. Destrier is the finest horse in the Telmarine stables – strong and swift. If any beast can carry you safely past the lines, it is he."

"Thank you," Lucy said softly. "I'm sure that he will be perfect."

"Come, we should see what news Edmund has brought from the enemy camp," Peter said as Caspian backed the stallion up into the temporary stabling that the Narnians had created and tied him up.

"Peter," Krisalyn spoke up as they started to turn towards the passage that would lead to the planning room.

"Kris?" Peter turned. "What is it?"

"May I speak to Aislynn for a few minutes? Alone?" Krisalyn asked. "I'll send her to you as soon as we've finished."

Peter nodded. "Of course. I don't think there is much that she can do in regards to the final planning. We've prepared a route for them to take, but all that is left is to put the final details for the defense in place."

Aislynn stepped away from the group and walked over to her mother's side as the other three turned back towards the passage. She waited patiently for Krisalyn to speak.

Krisalyn studied her daughter for a moment, seeing again her striking resemblance to Peter. It was in her eyes mostly, along with a few expressions that were purely Peter and never failed to strike a blow to Krisalyn's heart when she saw them. "Walk with me, Aislynn." She turned and headed in the opposite direction, and Aislynn fell into step beside her.

"Was there something that you needed, Mother?" Aislynn asked after they had walked for a minute without Krisalyn speaking.

Krisalyn nodded. "Aislynn, promise me that you will be careful. I know why you feel that you must do this, and I understand…but I do not want to lose you."

"Mother, this is something that I can do. There's no way to know what will happen, but I know Aslan will protect us, and if Aunt Lucy is right he will find us before we get too far away from the How. Aslan is everything that is wise, just, and good. He won't let the Narnians stand alone, not as long as we have faith in him."

Krisalyn marveled at her daughter's quiet faith. It had been a long time since she'd been able to look at her faith in Aslan in the same way. Years of betrayal and suffering had jaded her perspective on the Great Lion and his ways. While she still believed in him, she knew that she could no longer have the same quiet, simple faith that she had raised her daughter to have – and teaching her that quiet faith had been exceedingly difficult.

That had been one of many reasons why she had not told Aislynn who her father was, or that Krisalyn was a Queen of Narnia, or that she was the heir to the Narnian throne. She had not wanted her own experiences as a Queen to influence her daughter's perception of who Aslan was, and possibly jade her daughter the same way.

"_Mama?"_

"_Yes, Aislynn?" Krisalyn asked softly as she helped her daughter choose a nightgown and get ready for bed._

"_Can I ask you something?" Aislynn looked up at her, trustingly, with her huge, blue-violet eyes. Krisalyn had to clamp down on her emotions, as she did every single time that Aislynn looked at her with those beautiful eyes, so much like Peter's that it made her want to weep for what she had lost. The little girl pointed at one soft, white gown that was embroidered with tiny purple roses._

"_Of course, sweetling. What is it?" Krisalyn gathered the chosen nightgown in her hands and gently slipped it over her daughter's head, catching the ends of the sleeves and holding them out so that Aislynn could slip her arms through them as the gown fell down around her ankles._

"_Who is Asln?"_

_Krisalyn frowned. "Who? I don't recognize that name."_

"_Asln. I heard Corin use it today when he was walking me to see Ratha for my lesson. A servant came up to us and told him something, and Corin said, 'Asln's main.'"_

_Krisalyn sucked in a tiny breath as she realized what her daughter was speaking of. "Aslan, sweetheart. Corin said '__**Aslan's**__ Mane.'"_

"_Who is Aslan?" the little girl asked as she walked over to her bed and climbed in._

_Krisalyn sat down on the edge of the bed as Aislynn snuggled down under the covers. She reached out and brushed Aislynn's thick black hair back from her forehead. "Aslan is the Great Lion who created Narnia, and Archenland, and Calormen, sweetheart. Over a thousand years ago, he sang the world into being, along with all of the creatures who live in it."_

"_Even me?"_

_Krisalyn smiled softly at the innocent question. "He gave you to me, darling. You are one of the greatest blessings that he bestowed upon me." She leaned down and kissed Aislynn's brow. "Aslan is the Son of the Emperor-Over-Sea, and Narnia is the seat of his grace, although we here in Archenland also revere him and respect him for his power and his love for those who put their trust and faith in him. To stand in his presence is to feel like you are wrapped in a blanket made of love. I thank Aslan every day for giving you to me."_

"_Aren't lions dangerous?"_

"_Aslan is a good Lion, but yes, when it is necessary, he can be very dangerous, because he's not a tame lion.. But for those who love and trust him, and listen to his voice, he has nothing but love, compassion, and gentleness."_

"_I'd like to meet him someday," Aislynn said sleepily._

"_I'm sure you will, sweetheart. Even if you don't meet him until he calls you to his Country, however, he knows you and he loves you."_

"_Sing me a song, Mama," Aislynn whispered, struggling to keep her eyes open._

_Krisalyn hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Close your eyes sweetheart." When her daughter did so, Krisalyn took a deep breath and began to sing as she continued to stroke her daughter's hair, her eyes closed in concentration. "__**I pray Aslan will hold you close, and keep you through the night. That you will wake up smiling, in the early morning light. That he will always comfort you, and make you brave and strong. I pray that you will follow him your whole life long. I pray that you will grow up, to be wise and good and true. I pray that you will please him, in everything you do. I pray that you will hear his voice, and learn to sing his song. I pray that you will follow him your whole life long.**__"_

_Krisalyn looked down at her daughter and saw that she had drifted to sleep. Aislynn's voice was deep and steady, and Krisalyn had to blink back tears at the peaceful expression on her daughter's face. She slowly rose to her feet, so as not to disturb her daughter, and walked over to the door, pausing to dim the small lamp that she kept near the door. "Aslan, thank you for giving me such a beautiful daughter. Be with her all through her life, so that when the time comes, she will sit on Peter's throne where she belongs. Help her to be the one who will restore Narnia to her former glory," she whispered. Looking back at her daughter, she sang again, softly. "__**I pray Aslan will bless you, with his presence everyday. I pray that he will protect you every step along the way. Help you love what's right, and lead you far away from wrong. I pray that you will follow him your whole life long.**__"_

Krisalyn smiled faintly at the memory of Aislynn's innocent question and her simple prayer. Her song from that night, so long ago, had proven prophetic. Aislynn had grown up to be a beautiful, brave, and strong woman. She walked with Aslan everyday, blessing his name and allowing her actions to speak of her faith towards him.

"_I'd like to meet him someday."_

Well, after all of these years, it seemed that her daughter was finally going to get the chance to meet Aslan, her namesake, just as she had wanted to so long ago. She only hoped that Aislynn's simple, beautiful faith in the Great Lion would please him and help to convince him to aid the Narnians in their struggle.

"I'm sure that you're right, Aislynn," Krisalyn said softly. She fell silent again, but led her daughter through the tunnels to her room. "Wait there, sweetheart. I have something to give you."

Aislynn looked curious, but nodded. Krisalyn walked over, not to the chest that she had brought with her from Narnia, but to one of the saddlebags that she had carried on the trip from Anvard. She opened the bag and then reached in, extracting a beautiful dagger in a blue and silver sheath. The dagger had been made for her by her uncle for her sixteenth birthday, the day she had officially taken on the role as Crown Princess of Archenland. She hadn't used the dagger in years, but she had kept it cleaned and sharp, having always intended to give it to her daughter someday.

"Aislynn, I'd like you to have this. This dagger was given to me by King Lune when I was sixteen, the day I was officially named Crown Princess of Archenland. A few years later I gave up that title when I married your father, but I always kept the dagger handy. Now it's yours, and I pray that it will help to protect you on the dangerous road that you are about to travel."

Aislynn's eyes were wide as she took the dagger from her mother and gently pulled it out of the sheath, admiring the gleaming blade. "Mother, I…I cannot accept this."

"It's yours, Aislynn. It was always meant to be yours." Krisalyn placed her hands over her daughter's and gently guided the blade back into the sheath. "The Archenlanders don't have the custom of naming their weapons the way the Narnians do, but you are Narnian by birth, and it is perhaps time that this dagger received an appropriate name."

Aislynn only stared between the gift and her mother with wide eyes. "A…a name? I…I wouldn't even know what to call it."

Krisalyn smiled faintly. "You don't have to name it now, Aislynn. Think about it. The right name will come when you're ready. But keep it with you, and take it with you when you ride out with Lucy."

"Thank you, Mother. I cannot promise to come back safely, but I promise to be careful and to do my very best," Aislynn said as she looked into her mother's eyes, before she took the dagger and fastened it to the belt around her waist.

Krisalyn reached out and embraced her daughter tightly, forcing back the tears that were trying to gather in her eyes. She would not allow her daughter to see her cry, nor allow Aislynn to see the genuine fear that was gripping her heart. Peter's life was in danger, because of this duel and the upcoming battle, and now Aislynn was prepared to ride off in search of Aslan, likely to be pursued by the Telmarines who sought to destroy all that was beautiful and good about Narnia. She stood to lose her entire family today, and for the first time she wondered if Cor and Oreius hadn't been right. Perhaps she _should_ have stayed at Anvard until the battle was over.

She released her daughter after a moment. "Go on. Go see your father, and then you'll need to begin making preparations. Let Oreius help you before you meet Lucy. I'll meet you in the rear passage later to see you off."

Aislynn nodded and her hand drifted to her new dagger for a moment before she turned and hurried out of the room.

Krisalyn watched her daughter go, and unbidden, the words of the song that she had sung long ago at her daughter's bedside rose up again and she began to sing softly, her eyes drifting closed as she sent the prayer up to Aslan with her whole heart. "_I pray Aslan will bless you, with his presence everyday. I pray that he will protect you every step along the way. Help you love what's right, and lead you far away from wrong. I pray that you will follow him your whole life long."_

She opened her eyes again and looked up the corridor that her daughter had traveled moments ago, feeling tears well up again and her throat closing against the sorrow and fear that was trying to consume her. "Aslan, protect my child and my husband. They fight for you on this day. Be with them and hold them in the safety of your majesty."

* * *

_Don't forget to leave me a review! Hopefully that will keep my muse with me long enough for me to finish this story!_


	27. Chapter 26: Questions of Faith and Duty

_Author's Note: See? I can update quickly! And you don't have to wait a year this time! We're seriously gearing up for the end of the story soon - not immediately, but soon. Rough estimates (based on what I still want to include in the story) puts this story at another 5-8 chapters beside this one. Of course, given the way my muse runs away with me from time to time, that could change drastically, especially now that I've seen **Voyage of the Dawn Treader**...that movie gave me so many new ideas for this one!_

_Oh, and to give credit where credit is due: The idea that Peter and his siblings earned other names besides Magnificent, Just, etc. belongs to **Elecktrum**. I loved the idea in one chapter of her amazing story **Thole**. The idea of Peter having an actual bond with Narnia comes from **Sentimental Star** from her story **Keeping the Faith**, I think. I haven't asked permission to use these elements, and I didn't use them in exactly the same way, but they still deserve credit for their ideas inspiring mine. If you haven't read either story, do not pass them up!_

_Anyway, enjoy this long chapter and don't forget to review!_

* * *

**Chapter 26: **_**Questions of Faith and Duty**_

_Aslan's How…planning chamber…five hours until the duel…_

"How is the ambush coming?" Peter asked, tracing a map of the tunnels with his finger as he looked at Glenstorm and Caspian.

"Very well, sire," Glenstorm said. "We've run drills in order to perfect the timing, and we've marked the columns that must be destroyed for the plan to work. Half of the Narnian forces will be stationed in the main room of the How, waiting for the signal, and the other half will be on the surface watching the duel. The Telmarines should have no idea of the true numbers of our forces."

"I'll be waiting for your signal to begin the charge," Caspian added.

Edmund frowned. "Peter, we made these plans while Larez was still our prisoner. We don't know how many of our forces he saw when he was trying to escape. We may not be able to catch them by surprise, especially if he's in a position to command the Telmarine army. If he warns them that there are fewer of our forces visible than he's seen…"

"I'll station a few of my men among the Narnians that will be visible outside," Cor volunteered. That way he won't realize that the majority of my army is not waiting outside, and my archers will already be waiting with the Narnians and Queen Susan on the upper levels of the How."

Peter nodded. "Thank you, Cor. Your forces will be _here_ and _here_, correct?"

Cor studied the two places that Peter was indicating. "Yes. We'll be waiting for the signal to come in and flank the Telmarines once their infantry takes the field. Corin is going to take the scouts and try to work their way past the sentry lines to the rear of the Telmarine army, and try to take out the siege weapons from the rear with strike and run tactics."

Peter was pleased with that plan. The siege weapons would do more damage to their forces – and possibly the How – than they could counter, but if the siege weapons were taken out, they would have a better chance of meeting the Telmarines evenly on the field of battle. "Just take care, Corin," Peter cautioned him. "The Telmarines will have the siege weapons strongly guarded, since that is one of the clear tactical advantages that they have over us."

Oreius looked thoughtful and stamped one hoof on the stone floor. "What if His Highness were to take some of the Mice with the scouts? While the scouts engaged the Telmarine forces manning the siege weapons, could the Mice not disable them? They are small and swift and could make it to the weapons unseen."

Reepicheep straightened proudly at the General's compliment. "I can send half of my Mice along with His Highness, if that is the case."

"The Mice would be welcome," Corin agreed. "But my twenty-five scouts and I will not be enough to distract or endure against all of the Telmarines at the rear. I would need more troops to be able to maintain a clear distraction while the Mice accomplish their mission."

"Take one regiment of infantry," Cor ordered his brother. "The scouts, the regiment of soldiers, and the Mice should be enough to do some damage before you are forced to fall back and circle around to join the battle."

Corin nodded. "Fair enough. Sir Reepicheep will undoubtedly send some of his finest along with us."

"Indeed I shall, and they shall be proud to serve Aslan and their Kings and Queens!" Reepicheep declared.

Peter glanced up in time to see Aislynn slipping quietly into the room. She smiled at him and moved to stand next to Oreius and Tumnus. He glanced back down at the maps, redirecting his attention to the final plans. "Ed, where do we stand with the Gryphons?"

"Caspian's going to signal them after the charge out of the tunnels," Edmund said. "Roron is leading the flight and he'll be watching for Caspian's command. Half of the Gryphons are to carry rocks to drop on the Telmarines, and the other half will be carrying Dwarf archers."

"Archers?" Oreius asked, surprised. Peter was equally startled, since he hadn't heard that detail yet. He looked closely at Edmund.

"It was one of Caspian's ideas," Edmund shrugged. "But it would be a brilliant use of their abilities, and it's something that we never tried during our reign. The Gryphons will be able to carry the Dwarves closer to the line, which will hopefully make their shots even more accurate. If they can get close enough, they may even be able to target the Telmarine officers and start disruption in the ranks if the chain of command is broken."

Peter shot a surprised look at Caspian, who ducked his head, embarrassed. "An excellent idea, Caspian."

Caspian looked up, startled at the compliment. "Thank you."

"Susan, what about the archers?"

"We're ready, Peter," Susan assured him. "Thanks to the efforts of the Narnians, there's a large supply of arrows made and fletched, and some of the younger children have been appointed to continually bring arrows to the archers that will be stationed on the terraces."

"Who is going to be tending the wounded that make it back to the How?" Edmund asked.

Tumnus raised his hand. "I will be assisting Queen Krisalyn and Doctor Cornelius in that task, Majesties. They have already volunteered their services, and a few of those with healer training will be aiding as well."

"Good. And with Aislynn and Lucy searching for Aslan, I believe that we've covered all bases," Peter replied. He straightened up and stood, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles that had tensed up from being bent over the maps and plans.

Cor glanced at his twin for a moment. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go see about assembling the regiment that will be accompanying my brother's scouts."

"And I shall select the Mice," Reepicheep added, with a flourished bow in Peter's direction.

Peter hid a smile at the exuberant Mouse and nodded to both of them. "Please. Corin, you'll need to leave earlier than Lucy and Aislynn so that you have time to circumvent the Telmarine lines if you're going to be in position by the time the duel starts."

Corin nodded. "I thought I would leave at two marks past noon, King Peter. That should give us plenty of time to get into position."

"Agreed." Given that it was only eleven marks past dawn, Corin would have plenty of time to prepare his forces, especially since Peter was going to try to buy as much times as he possibly could for Lucy and Aislynn to find Aslan.

The two Archenland royals bowed politely and strode out of the room together. Corin had his head tilted towards his twin and was speaking quietly to him. Reepicheep bowed again, and left in their wake to assemble the Mice under his command and choose the ones who would be accompanying him.

Peter sighed. "Now for the duel. Ed, what arrangements did you make with Miraz?"

"The combat will be held at four marks past noon, Peter. Miraz is allowed to bring three of his men with him to the ruins in front of the How, and I told him that they didn't need green branches to signify their intent, since the sentries will know that they're coming and why."

"Then to keep it equal, I should have three standing alongside as well," Peter said thoughtfully.

"Your Majesty, I would like to volunteer," Caspian began, but Edmund interjected, shaking his head.

"You cannot, Caspian. This combat is – as the letter was phrased – to decide your right to claim the throne of the Telmarines. That claim invalidates you from standing as one of the Marshals."

"Besides," Peter added. "While we're preparing for the combat, you'll be seeing Lucy and Aislynn off. The Marshals have to be in place before the combat begins. Edmund will be standing with me, but he'll be acting as my squire as well, so he'll walk out with me."

A thick, growling voice suddenly spoke from the door. "Your Majesty, please."

Peter and the rest of the Council turned and saw a large brown Bear standing near the door, apparently having overheard the conversation. "If you please, Your Majesty, I'm a bear, I am," the Bear continued when he noticed that he had their attention."

"Indeed, and a good Bear, I do not doubt," Peter replied.

"If it pleases Your Majesty, it was always a right of the Bears to supply one Marshal of the lists," the Bear replied.

"You are quite right, good Bear," Peter said. "I take it you wish to volunteer?" When the Bear nodded heavily, Peter nodded in response. "I thank you for the offer. Know that it is most appreciated."

"I thank you, Majesty," the Bear replied before he bowed low and shuffled away from the door.

Peter turned back to the rest of the Council. His eyes fell upon Oreius and something passed between them, silently, before Peter spoke. His tone was low, and humble, barely discernable to the other Narnians as he spoke to his weapons master. "Oreius, old friend, I would ask you to stand as Marshal, though I suspect that you would refuse."

The tall Centaur General looked seriously at his High King. "I swore once to stand beside you to the death, Your Majesty. Know that I will fight alongside the army today, to make up for my mistake in not being able to defend Narnia twenty years ago. But the honor of standing as Marshal this day does not belong with me."

Edmund stepped up beside his brother and looked Oreius in the eyes as well. "That is ridiculous, Oreius. You have done nothing but stand alongside us and serve Narnia and Aslan for as long as we've known you. There is no mistake to be avenged, and you hold no blame for what happened to Narnia."

"Perhaps, my King," Oreius replied. "But I still do not hold the right to stand as you would wish me to. May I suggest Glenstorm, however? He has been leading the Narnians for many years now, and I know he will serve honorably."

Glenstorm straightened as all eyes turned towards him. "I would be most honored, Majesty, if you would consider me worthy of this responsibility."

Peter smiled faintly. "Just like your father," he whispered, and for a moment many of those present thought that they saw pain flash in his blue eyes. But it was gone before they could really do more than catch a fleeting impression of it. Peter raised his voice. "You would be most welcome, Glenstorm."

Glenstorm bowed his head and raised a fisted hand to his heart, the Centaur way of showing respect, since their form did not allow them to bow the same way that a human would. "Then I shall stand beside you, High King." After a moment he looked back up and dropped his hand.

Peter watched Glenstorm for another moment, then turned and gazed at Oreius with those deep blue eyes. Edmund didn't fail to notice that Peter's eyes held – not only respect – but also sorrow. After their departure, it would have been Oreius who would have shouldered the complete burden of Narnia's defense, as well as that of protecting Krisalyn and Aislynn. It was a burden, Edmund knew, which Peter would never have asked the Centaur to take on, given a choice.

Clearing his throat after a moment, Peter turned and looked back at the Council, his eyes sweeping past his siblings, his daughter, and their friends, both old and new. "That, I believe, covers everything," he said quietly. "There are still several marks before the fight, so please see to any final preparations that you need to make at your posts and pray that Aslan comes swiftly to our aid."

The Narnians all bowed and Peter turned back to Oreius. "Old friend, would you walk with me?" he asked quietly.

"Of course, King Peter," Oreius replied. Peter glanced at his siblings and received reassuring nods, before he left the chamber, Oreius stepping alongside him, his hooves chiming on the stone floor of the How.

Slowly, the other Council members bowed to the remaining monarchs and drifted out, leaving Susan, Lucy, Edmund, and Aislynn standing alone in the planning chamber. Edmund glanced at his family, his heart feeling tight as he realized that for the first time in a very long time, they were all going to be fighting for Narnia's freedom. They had all fought during the battle with the Witch – even Lucy had used her dagger to help once Aslan had brought them along with the reinforcements. But after Beruna, it had been Peter and Edmund – and occasionally Susan – who had gone to war. Lucy had usually remained with the healers, behind the Narnian lines. Her cordial had been used to help their soldiers when they were at the point of death, and Peter had not wanted to risk Lucy's life or innocence with the bloody and terrible sights of a pitched battle. And Aislynn – Krisalyn had said that she had been trained by Oreius, just as they had, but she had never fought in a conflict before. True, if things went as they should, she _wouldn't_ be fighting this time, but there was no guarantee that everything would go as planned.

He cleared his throat and gained their attention. "I guess there's not much more we can do until the combat is closer, other than making sure that our divisions are ready."

His sisters nodded, while Aislynn remained silent. Lucy stepped over to him and wrapped her arms around him. "Everything will work out, Edmund. Aslan won't let us down."

Edmund returned her hug before he gently pushed her back enough so that he could drape one arm around her slender shoulders. "I know, Lu. He's never let us stand alone before. He'll come at the right time, and I know that you and Aislynn will be able to find him and bring him to us."

* * *

The steady _clip-clop_ of Oreius' iron-shod hooves was the only sound as he and Peter moved through the quieter side passages of the How. With the Narnians and the Archenland army making final preparations for the upcoming battle, both the High King and the General sought relative peace for a conversation that they knew they needed to have. Peter felt distinctly uncomfortable, because Oreius was one of the people that he respected most.

Other than Aslan, Oreius was the one person in Narnia that Peter had most looked up to. The Centaur – older, wiser, and kind – had taken on the role of advisor, friend, and father-figure to Peter. Peter had – by necessity and circumstances – been a father to his siblings, but he had only been sixteen when they took the thrones, and he had needed someone who could advise him as well. Over the years, Oreius had been the steadying influence on Peter that had allowed the young High King to cope beneath the burden until he had grown in wisdom and experience enough to understand and accept every nuance of that burden. He had trusted Oreius with his safety, with the safety of his siblings and his wife, and with the protection of Narnia. He knew that Oreius had been saddled with a heavy burden as a result of their disappearance, and he hated the fact that such a responsibility had been placed on the noble Centaur. He didn't even know how to begin to apologize for it.

Yet, at the same time, there was comfort in walking with Oreius as well. The Centaur had been one of their most trusted advisors, as well as their weaponsmaster. The things that he had taught the four of them about weapons and tactics had saved their lives on more than one occasion, as well as helped them defend Narnia time and time again. Always, before they rode off to a battle, he and Edmund would spend a few hours planning out a campaign with the General. Oreius always had excellent suggestions about the best place to use their troops, especially in the early years when Peter and Edmund were still learning tactics and the best ways to use the many talents of the wide variety of Narnians.

The last time that he had been with Oreius to plan a battle had been four months before they had ridden out to find the White Stag and ended up in England again. The Giants of the North had been a nuisance – albeit a serious one – ever since they had taken the thrones. Because the lands of Narnia were so bountiful and abundant compared to the wild Northlands where the Giants made their home, every few years the Giants would rise up – usually spurred on by a more powerful Giant who had assumed the mantle of leadership – and march on Narnia in an attempt to claim some of the fertile land and its resources for themselves.

"_The last report from the scouts indicated that they were coming straight down from the North, but oddly enough they seem to be following the coast," Oreius traced the Giants' route on the map spread out in front of them. "If they continue at the same pace, they should cross the River Shribble the day after tomorrow, and from there they have four days until they are marching on Cair Paravel – assuming, of course, that they don't stop to hunt."_

_Peter's lips tightened behind his golden beard as he studied the map. "How did we not know until they got this close? Where were the border patrols?"_

_Oreius shook his head. "I wish I knew, my King. The patrols have been constantly monitoring the border and sending in regular reports, but somehow they got past the troops in that area without being seen. It worries me, since Giants are not especially known for subtlety, and especially not the Northern Giants. Even more, they are not known for breaking their patterns, and they usually march on us in the early autumn, when hunting in their lands starts to become more difficult. It's only spring."_

_Peter shook his head. "The army will need to rally immediately, especially the troops that are fast and strong, like the Fauns, Centaurs, Satyrs, and Big Cats. Edmund and I will have to ride out at dawn if we hope to reach the river before the Giants cross. I don't want them crossing the Shribble – it puts them much too close to the Cair for comfort."_

"_I've already ordered the army to gather their things and assemble, King Peter," Oreius assured him. "King Edmund doesn't know about this yet, since he was in the middle of attending to Queen Susan and Prince Rabadash, but he promised to meet us here as soon as he could break away."_

"_I'm here now, Oreius," Edmund's voice, deep and rich, but as always, supremely calm, echoed through the War Room. He strode through the door that had been shoved open by one of the guards that was stationed outside the room and headed straight over to the map table where Peter and Oreius were working. "What troubles have been brought upon us this day?"_

_Oreius quickly explained the situation while Peter turned to a stack of parchment and the latest reports, making notes on the Giants' movement and the terrain. If it was at all possible, he wanted to be the one to pick this battlefield, which meant that they would have to press the army hard if they hoped to intercept the Giants before they reached the river._

"_I cannot go."_

_Peter looked up, startled. "What did you say?"_

_Edmund's face was drawn into a deep scowl, one of the few times Peter could remember seeing his brother annoyed or perturbed. Even when he was at his most angry, Edmund usually maintained a serene expression, allowing justice and the law to guide him, rather than his emotions. "I cannot go with you, Peter. Not this time."_

_Peter stared at his brother, shocked. "Why for, brother?"_

"_Prince Rabadash is departing in two days' time, and he has insisted on Susan accompanying him to Tashbaan. She's already agreed to make it a bit of a state visit, but I will not let her go alone."_

_Peter's scowl quickly matched his brother's. "She could not wait until after this campaign? After all, the _Splendor Hyaline _is small and swift and could easily be used to accommodate the Prince's party, or if he must return, she could make the voyage when all of us may travel with her."_

_Edmund shrugged. "I think not. Prince Rabadash is quite insistent on the matter, and Su is more taken with him than any other suitor that I have seen for the past several years." He met his brother's cool blue eyes with his own dark ones. "I know Narnia needs us now, but we both pledged that Lucy and Susan needed to be cared for too. I do not care how much of a gentleman he seems to be – he has been pressing his marriage suit far too strongly to comfort me. I trust not that he is sincere in his affection for our fair and dear sister."_

_Peter nodded. "Your judgment, as ever, is precise, brother… you must insist, quite strongly, that __**we**__ will convey the Prince and his party back to Tashbaan on the _Hyaline_. If Susan objects to that, tell her that it is an order from me. I will not see you stranded in Tashbaan without a way to get home."_

_Edmund nodded. "I shall, and the order shall not come just from you, brother mine. Lucy will back me as well."_

"_Good. In the meantime…" Peter looked back at the map. "I cannot afford to delay on this matter; else the Giants shall draw too close." He glanced over at Oreius. "It seems that you and I must lead this campaign, General."_

_Oreius saluted. "As you bid, my King."_

_A grim expression crossed Peter's face. "Then prepare our forces, General. At dawn, we ride."_

And so they had. Dawn the next morning had seen them off on a campaign that had lasted for almost three months. They had intercepted the Giants before they crossed the River, but Peter had been determined to teach the Giants a lesson about marching on Aslan's beloved country this time, and the Giants had been determined not to lose yet again. Normally, one battle would have been enough to decide the conflict, but this time the Giants had fought back. At times, it had seemed like they were forced to fight over every inch of land, all the way back to the Northern border, but Peter and Oreius, working together, had finally driven them out of Narnia and left such an impression on the Giants that they would not dare take another try at acquiring Narnia for a long time.

Remembering that last campaign with his old friend brought a small smile to Peter's face. It had been long, and hard-fought, but just one of many examples of his ability to work with Oreius.

However, that smile turned to a frown as he remembered everything that had happened since that battle. While it may have only been four months for Peter, in Oreius' reality, it had been twenty-five years. Peter couldn't help but wonder what Oreius' feelings were. Was he disappointed or angry at their abandonment? Was he only standing with them as a result of an oath sworn long ago and a sense of obligation and duty to Narnia and Aslan?

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered, just loudly enough for Oreius to hear as they walked. He owed the Centaur more than just those two little words, but he didn't even know where he should begin if he was going to apologize. He only hoped that if Oreius was angry, he would understand and give him a chance to explain. In all of the chaos of the last few days, he hadn't had a chance to sit down and explain things to the Centaur.

Oreius stopped suddenly as Peter's words reached his ears. Peter continued walking for several more paces before he realized that Oreius had stopped. The High King turned back to face the Centaur, who was staring at him, surprise etched on his wise, kind face. It was an expression that Peter had almost never seen on the General's face.

Over the fifteen years he had served them, Peter had seen many expressions on Oreius' face – joy, awe, respect, sadness. The one he knew best was the stern, unflappable gaze of a weaponsmaster teaching his students. And of course, there was the fiery, angry gaze that had been on the General's face whenever Peter or Edmund were injured on the battlefield. _That_ look had been nearly powerful enough to rival Peter's when his brother was injured or when he had been pushed past his tolerance.

But there was none of that on the Centaur's noble face now. Only surprise, followed by deep confusion – yet another emotion that Peter had only rarely seen. Oreius stared at him for a long moment, before slowly shaking his head. "Whatever for, Your Majesty?"

Peter couldn't believe that Oreius was asking that question. He _knew_ the Centaur could not have forgotten everything that had happened to Narnia since the day that he and his siblings had left Narnia. Peter suspected that he knew barely a tenth of what Oreius, Krisalyn, and the rest of Narnia had gone through during the long years. He also knew that they would _never_ tell him _everything _that had happened.

Peter owed Oreius so much – the Centaur had truly been there for Peter when Peter had needed him the most, after all. Instead, all that Oreius had received was their abandonment, the additional responsibility of helping Krisalyn to keep Narnia alive in their absence, and the burden of protecting Narnia's last remaining Queen and the young Princess who had until recently had no comprehension of her role.

"You were forced to shoulder a responsibility that you never should have had to, old friend," Peter whispered, some part of him feeling as if he didn't deserve to call this Centaur his friend after everything that he had done or caused to happen to the noble warrior. "And it is all through our fault. In the meeting, you said that you were to blame for what happened because you could not repel the Telmarines – but that is not true. The blame for what happened to Narnia does not rest on you – it rests on me."

He bowed his head slightly, and as a consequence missed the dawning comprehension in Oreius' face and the compassion, sympathy, and sorrow in his eyes as he took in the sight of the hunched form of the miserable High King.

Oreius looked at his King and wanted nothing more than to comfort him. It was apparent that the High King and his family had been through a great deal. While Oreius didn't understand how their Majesties had somehow come back to Narnia as children once again, it didn't matter to him. It was equally obvious that they retained everything that they had learned during their reign, and they truly were glad to be back and were horrified over what had happened to their beloved country. Oreius had stood beside them for fifteen years and watched them give everything they possessed and then even more. By the last year before they had disappeared, Oreius would have sworn that the four monarchs were bound so tightly to Narnia and her well-being that they wouldn't be able to leave without feeling acute grief.

Apparently that had not been the case – or had it?

But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was that Narnia's monarchs had returned during Narnia's darkest hour, and they were once again throwing themselves back into the defense and protection of Narnia and her people. Narnia's monarchs still loved their country, and in Oreius' mind, that was enough to balance the twenty-five years that they had been missing, at least until he understood the full story.

"You have nothing for which to be sorry, King Peter," Oreius said quietly, moving closer to his King and gently resting a hand calloused from decades of swordplay on the eldest King's shoulder. "You are here, you are prepared to fight for Narnia once again, and what happened is in the past. It no longer matters, thus you are not to blame for what happened. There are some things that cannot be changed no matter what we try. It is possible that had you been here, Narnia would still have been invaded, and you and your siblings would have been lost as well. If that was the case, then Narnia would have been lost forever, for there would be no one who could rally your people now."

As Peter looked up, Oreius moved his hand from Peter's shoulder and used it to very gently – for a Centaur – cuff him alongside the head, as he often had during the early years when Peter or Edmund had done something that pleased him in training. It had been years since Oreius had used that gesture of affection, even before they had left Narnia. Peter felt his heart lighten at the Centaur's gesture and his ready forgiveness. It had been about the same time that Peter had married Krisalyn that Oreius had stopped using that gesture of affection, and he had never realized how much he had missed it, or how much comfort he had drawn from it.

He wanted to thank Oreius, feeling the Centaur deserved that much at least, but as he opened his mouth, Oreius seemed to anticipate it. The General's hand dropped back to his shoulder. "Worry about what is coming, my King. You will have a true fight on your hands today, and distraction will be your undoing."

Peter could only nod as he understood that Oreius didn't need or want thanks. The Centaur had done what duty demanded of him, but he had also done it because he genuinely cared about Peter and his family. It hadn't been a burden to Oreius, but an honor. Thanking or apologizing for it would only cheapen what Oreius had done so selflessly.

They resumed their walk, Oreius' long strides easily catching up to Peter as he turned around. Peter was silent for several seconds, thinking about what he was about to do. Finally, he asked the question that had been at the back of his mind ever since they had decided to take this course. "General, do you really think I can defeat Miraz?"

"Of course, King Peter," Oreius replied calmly. "You and King Edmund are my greatest students. You know the Chronicles refer to you as Narnia's Sword – and for good reason."

"I am afraid that I am not as certain, Oreius. I am not the warrior I was before we left. My stamina and strength are not as great as they were, and I have laid eyes on Miraz up close only once – what I saw seemed formidable."

"Your Majesty, you defeated many opponents larger and possibly stronger than you before your strength and stamina were developed, and before you were trained in swordsmanship," Oreius replied calmly. "It is no different now, except that you are fully trained."

"Narnia is depending on me this time though," Peter countered. "In other battles, if I fell, you and Edmund were there to take command. This time, if I fall, we are honor-bound to surrender. If I fail, Narnia will be lost."

Oreius placed his hand on Peter's shoulder again and drew him to a stop. His eyes were puzzled, but his face was kind. He leaned down slightly, so that he could look Peter directly in the eyes. "Why do you believe that you will fail, my King?"

Peter stared at Oreius steadily. "You are not the only one who swore an oath at Beruna, General."

_The battle was over, his siblings were safe, and although many of the Narnians had died, Aslan and Lucy had been able to restore many more back from being turned to stone or wounded. At first, Peter had feared that he had gotten the entire army killed, but once the wounded had been tended to, the casualties were much less than he had feared._

_They had returned to the camp for a victory feast, and the celebrating was still going on as Peter slipped quietly away from the bonfire. He smiled at the sight of his sisters being swept into the dancing by several of the Dryads. Everything had happened so fast – he needed some peace and quiet to sort through the day._

_Peter moved into the darkness beyond the fires, hesitated for a moment, and then found the path that led back towards the tent that he had shared with his brother the night before. The tent was isolated at the back of the camp, and with everyone gathered around the fires the tents would be quiet._

_Just as he reached the tents, however, he realized that it would be too easy to find him here. He really wanted a chance to be completely alone. Ever since they had arrived at Aslan's camp, he'd been surrounded by Narnians who needed him to do different things in preparation for the battle. He just needed a place where he could be alone to think. He passed by the tent and instead headed towards the ridge above the camp. He found the path and started up, remembering that the last time he had climbed up this way had been for the same reason – to be alone to think. When he reached the top he looked out over the camp. If he was completely honest with himself, he couldn't believe that it was over. He couldn't believe that he had survived._

_He had survived._

_That realization hit him at the same moment as he remembered everything that he had seen and heard on the battlefield – the blood, the cries and screams of the injured and dying, the sight of Edmund being stabbed by the Witch, the Witch's cold, cruel smirk as she leaned over him in preparation to kill him…_

_It was too much. Peter fell to his knees and proceeded to be violently ill as the victory feast that had tasted so wonderful an hour ago suddenly tasted much worse coming back up. For several seconds, he wretched and gagged in silent misery, all the while hearing the screams and cries from the battle in his mind, and smelling the coppery tang of blood and the odor of sickness. Growing up amidst a war, with the Germans bombing anything that they could target, Peter was no stranger to devastation. He knew neighbors who had lost their homes because a bomb had fallen too close, and had seen people digging through rubble and collapsed buildings looking for loved ones who might be trapped._

_But the things that he had seen that day were horrifying enough to overwhelm him, despite all of the things that he had seen at home. All he could do was simply ride out the sickness and try to force himself to forget what he had seen. When all he was expelling was bile, he sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with the back of his shaking hand._

_Soft, heavy breaths from behind him alerted him to the presence of someone else, and he tensed, hoping that Edmund or one of his sisters hadn't followed him away from the fire and seen him become ill. He didn't want to worry them. A moment later, he heard a gentle purring and felt warm breath on the back of his neck._

"_Peter, why do you slip away in darkness?" Aslan's deep voice rumbled. "This feast is for you too."_

"_I – I just needed some time to think," Peter said. "Everything today happened so fast and was so intense."_

"_That is often the way of things," Aslan agreed, coming around to stand in front of Peter. "As High King, you will find that it happens frequently. The decisions that you and your siblings make will influence Narnia and her neighbors. You are the oldest, so for a time, until your siblings come to understand what Narnia requires of them, the burden of rule will fall on you."_

_Peter thought about that. What Aslan was describing – it was beyond his comprehension. He'd been told by his teachers, his friends, and his parents that he was a natural leader, but in his mind that wasn't the best quality for kingship. As a child, he'd never really seen himself as a King, even in his imagination. Sure, he'd gotten through this battle, but it could have been luck. If Aslan hadn't arrived with reinforcements when he had, they would have lost. The Narnians were looking for anyone to lead, and somehow they naturally assumed that he would know what he was doing because he was human and (from Peter's understanding) the first Kings of Narnia had been human, or descended from a human blood-line._

"_Aslan, would you send us back if we wanted to go – before we are crowned I mean?" Peter felt like he had to ask the question, although the idea of leaving Narnia left a heavy feeling in his stomach and a tightness in his chest._

_Aslan's golden eyes met his. For a long moment, he stared at Peter, apparently looking through him and measuring him against an unknown standard. Peter held the Lion's gaze, although it was difficult – the kindness and power made him want to look away._

_Finally... "If that is what you truly wish, Peter. You have done what I asked in helping to free my people from the Witch. I truly believe, however, that you and your siblings will continue to do great things for Narnia." He regarded Peter. "I only ask that you consider it."_

_He turned and started to pace away, back down the path towards the encampment, and Peter managed to rise to his feet. As he watched Aslan leave, his eyes were drawn back to the bonfire again, and he heard the joyful shouts and music of a people who had never known anything but a cold, never-ending winter. He and Edmund, Susan, and Lucy had already helped to change that. What more could they accomplish? What might they learn?_

_A warm feeling began to blossom inside him at the thought. He and his siblings were being given an amazing, once in a lifetime chance. How could they pass it up?_

"_Aslan…" He spun back to look at the Lion again._

_The great Lion paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Yes, Peter?"_

_Peter approached him slowly, coming to stand in front of him so he could look into those golden eyes. Once he was there, he unsheathed the sword that Father Christmas had given him, which was still carried on his hip, and knelt down. He turned the sword so that the tip rested on the grass and bowed his head before Aslan as he had when Aslan had knighted him two days ago. "I, Peter Pevensie, hereby pledge myself this day to Narnia – to her protection, health, and life. I pledge to serve her and her people to the best of my ability, with sword, word, body, mind, and spirit. I swear to follow and serve Aslan, the great Lion, to listen to his commands and to trust him to guard my life and the lives of my people when I cannot." He wasn't sure what was inspiring this, but it felt right._

_A pleased rumble came from Aslan's throat as he bent his great head with its magnificent mane and blew a warm, sweet breath on Peter's cheek. "Your oath is accepted, High King. I am well pleased, my son."_

Despite what swearing that oath had meant, Peter considered it one of his most precious memories, ranking alongside the awe he had felt the first time he had seen Aslan, the sheer delight when he had been crowned, and the joy of his marriage to Krisalyn. However, he had not told his siblings – not even Edmund – about that night. It was a private memory, a moment shared between him and Aslan alone. At the time, his siblings had not been ready to understand – as Aslan had said, it had been nearly a full year as Narnia's monarchs before they truly began to realize what being Kings and Queens would entail.

Because they did not know about Peter's oath, they did not realize how much seeing what had happened to Narnia in their absence was tearing at him. If they had, some of his behavior towards Caspian would have made more sense. They believed that most of his attitude and behavior had been due to the uncertainty regarding Krisalyn's fate. To a degree, that was true. Peter _had_ been frantic to learn about his wife – but the whole truth was much deeper that that.

Over the years of their rule, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy had all become a part of Narnia in their own ways. But for Peter, the bond was deeper and the price steeper. It had begun that night at Beruna, with his oath to Aslan, but even he hadn't realized until much later what swearing that oath would mean.

To truly become the High King, Peter had been forced to give his body, his mind, his life, and his _soul_ to Narnia. His bond to his new country had grown stronger gradually, but steadily. As a result, he felt Narnia inside him – her sorrow and her joy, her pain and her very essence. It was for that reason that he had been able to so completely and selflessly put Narnia first. When Narnia needed him, or something was wrong, he _knew_ and he was forced to act. His siblings felt the same, emotionally. But for Peter it became an unconscious command that he could not resist, and that was what his siblings did not realize.

* * *

Oreius studied the High King closely. To his surprise, the King's clear blue eyes began to fill with tears. Oreius tightened his grip on Peter's shoulder. "What is wrong, my King?"

"Narnia is in pain, Oreius. I can feel it." He reached up and touched his chest with his hand, right over his heart. "I can feel Narnia right here. When she is in danger, she cries out to me; she reaches out for my help. During the time I was gone, I couldn't feel her – I had no idea what was happening. But now that I am back I can feel it again. Narnia knows how close she is to being lost, and it is reflecting back to me."

Oreius' eyes widened as he realized what Peter was describing. The High King was spiritually linked to his country. He had often heard people describe Narnia's Kings and Queens by the names Aslan had given them – Magnificent, Just, Gentle, and Valiant. But people had also called King Peter Narnia's Sword and King Edmund her Shield. Oreius had suspected for many years that the bond Narnia had with her monarchs went deeper even than that.

"We will give her the help she seeks, Your Majesty." He released his grip on Peter's shoulders and started walking again. "Narnia cries out to you because she knows you can save her."

"But if I fail…" Peter began.

"You won't fail, my King. Narnia will not let you fail," Oreius interjected. ""Narnia means something to each of you, my King. Queen Susan is her Heart – her love and her passion, her kindness, and her beauty. King Edmund is Narnia's Honor – his sense of justice is strengthened by Narnia and Narnia prospers due to his wisdom."

He could see comprehension dawning in the High King's eyes. A thoughtful look crossed his face before he spoke. "Lucy is her Joy," Peter said, confident in his analysis. "Narnia's very life speaks of Aslan's grace and love, and Lucy embodies that completely."

Oreius nodded in agreement. "And you, Majesty…you are her Soul. Her very essence is bound to you –if you died, she would not die, but she certainly would not be the same without you, her High King. I believe some of her beauty would be gone without you. Aslan gave you the title of High King, and the responsibility of being High King over all Kings of Narnia – it has tied you to Narnia's past, present, and future."

"I knew that," Peter whispered. "It was why I lashed out at Caspian just before you arrived. Narnia was crying for my help, and – since I didn't know that Aislynn was my daughter – I was forced to put Narnia in his hands. But he wasn't ready, and having to entrust my country to someone who was bent only on revenge at the time was tearing me apart, and it was hurting Narnia, because I couldn't do anything to help her."

"But the Prince is a good man, High King," Oreius corrected. "He is young, but so were you."

Peter nodded. "I know that now. After this is over, I suspect we'll know for sure if Caspian is truly worthy of the crown – although by rights it should pass to Aislynn, since she is my heir."

"Worry about that after this battle is over, Your Majesty. There will be time then. But now Narnia's Sword will need to be unleashed in her defense once again."

A determined look entered Peter's eyes. "Indeed it does, General."

* * *

Caspian was beginning to wish that he had not suggested the duel as he watched King Edmund, Queen Lucy, and Queen Susan tend to the last preparations that could be made until it was time for Queen Lucy and Princess Aislynn to depart on their quest. Their faces were seemingly serene, but their eyes were filled with worry and fear. They had little to say, but their heavy glances at each other spoke volumes and added to the tension in the room.

He finally excused himself and went to the stables to make sure that Destrier was ready. The stables were busy, but Destrier was in a quiet corner in order to keep him calm until it was time for the two royals to leave. He found a brush and began quietly grooming the stallion and talking quietly to him. In many ways, Destrier was the only friend that he had ever had. As a Prince, his uncle had insisted that he was too important to socialize with the children who lived near the castle. None of the Lords on the Council had children, and there was no one else who was close to his own age. After his nurse had been sent away, his life had revolved around his weapons training, his classes with the Professor (both the official and the unofficial ones) and riding lessons on Destrier.

The stallion craned his head around and nudged Caspian's arm with his nose, snorting out a soft breath as Caspian smiled despite himself. He reached over and rubbed the horse's nose firmly. "You'll run until your strength gives out, won't you, old friend? Their Highnesses are depending on you to get them through safely. You got me safely to the Narnians, after all."

"I am certain that he will serve valiantly."

Caspian spun around, surprised, instinctively starting to reach for his dagger. He relaxed when he realized that Aislynn was standing behind him and he quickly slid the dagger he had begun to remove from the sheath back into place. He bowed. "Your Highness."

"There is no need for formality, Caspian," Aislynn chided him gently as she approached and reached out to stroke Destrier's nose. "You are royalty, as well. Discovering that I am High King Peter's daughter has not changed who I am."

Caspian straightened up and regarded her seriously. "Perhaps, but I am second to you, my lady. You are the daughter of the High King, and you are the true heir to the Narnian throne. I had no right to make a pledge to rule the Narnians if they helped me reclaim the throne my uncle stole from me, because it was never mine to begin with."

Aislynn shook her head. "That is not so, Caspian. I may be the heir to the Narnian throne, but you are still the rightful King of the Telmarines. You had no idea that there was a living heir until my father and his siblings arrived. I did not even know that I was the heir. There is no reason that we cannot work together to bring peace to Narnia. If I am named Queen, I have no intention of forcing your people to leave Narnia. We can co-exist in peace. The Narnians simply want their homes back and do not want to be forced to live in exile any longer."

Caspian nodded and turned back to finish grooming his stallion. Aislynn continued to stand by Destrier's head, gently stroking the stallion's neck as she watched him silently. Caspian soon turned his attention to his horse's hooves, wanting to make sure that the shoes were tight and that there were no stones or other injuries that he may have picked up during either escape from the castle.

"It was very kind of you to offer your horse," Aislynn ventured as she watched him.

"You and Queen Lucy are taking on a dangerous task," Caspian answered, looking up at her. "You will need the best horse that you can possibly get. Most of the horses belong to the Archenland army. The few that we've managed to deprive my uncle of are no match for Destrier. He is swift, strong, and well-trained."

"I thank you, and I know that my aunt thanks you as well." Aislynn was quiet for another few moments. "Caspian, I –"

"Aislynn, I wanted to tell you that –" Caspian began at the same time, only to stop as he realized she was speaking. She stopped at the same time and for a moment there was an awkward silence.

"Please, you were about to say something," Aislynn offered.

"No, you may continue," Caspian replied quickly.

Aislynn hesitated, and then nodded. "Caspian, I just wanted to tell you how much I admire you."

Caspian blinked, startled.

She saw his surprised and continued. "It was very brave of you to trust the Narnians considering that to them you were the enemy, and very kind of you to offer to help them reclaim what was taken from them."

To his horror, Caspian blushed redly and stammered slightly as he tried to answer her. "T-thank you. I – erm, I think you are very brave to offer to go and find Aslan. It could be very dangerous if my uncle's scouts see you."

Aislynn nodded. "I know, but it is also something that I know I can do. The Narnians are my people – I cannot refuse to help them."

Caspian could only nod as well. Silence fell between them again, and Caspian quickly turned his attention to checking Destrier's feet. The silence grew long, but this time it didn't feel uncomfortable or awkward. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Aislynn as she continued to stroke Destrier's silky coat. Ever since she had arrived at the How, bearing King Cor's greetings and offers of assistance, Caspian had been watching her closely. Her beauty had been one of the first things to capture his attention, but having seen many of the "beauties" at his uncle's court, he knew that there were things more important than just beauty. Her gentle, yet determined attitude had earned her his admiration, but he had yet to tell her that in so many words.

Originally, if they survived the battle, he had begun to consider requesting permission to court her, at least before he had found out that she was royal, not just noble. Now, however, he knew that she was the daughter of High King Peter and was the rightful Queen of Narnia. He feared that paying court to her would look like he was merely taking advantage of her status to gain political power, and that the Narnians would not take it well. It was one thing to follow and accept the leadership of a prince whose people had invaded your country when there was no apparent blood-line heir to the throne. It was quite a different thing to accept that prince as the Queen's consort once a war had been won.

"Please excuse me, Caspian," she said suddenly. "I need to go and see my father and General Oreius. Everything will begin happening soon."

Caspian straightened and lowered Destrier's hoof to the ground. "I shall meet you back here when it is time for you and Queen Lucy to depart."

She nodded, gave one last pat to Destrier's shoulder, and quietly slipped away, vanishing into the crowd of Archenland soldiers who were also readying their mounts. King Cor was about to take his army out and get them into position for the flanking maneuver. The army would have to use the side and back passages to get out of the How without being seen by the Telmarines.

Destrier was ready, and there wasn't much more that Caspian could do. He left his stallion tethered in his quiet corner and moved out into the main area of the stable, looking to see if anyone needed help readying their horses. It seemed, however, that Cor's army was well-disciplined and had everything under control. So Caspian left the stables in order to stay out of the way. He idly wandered through the How, looking for something he could do, but it seemed that the days of planning had worked quite well, because everyone knew exactly what they were supposed to be doing.

At a bit of a loss, Caspian moved into the corridor that led to the Stone Table chamber. He hesitated for a moment, before he squared his shoulders and headed down into the depths of the How. He hadn't been back into this room since the fight, and it was probably past time that he did – at least before they went out into what could be the final battle. As he entered, he noticed that all traces of what had happened earlier had been cleaned up. The magical ice had disappeared, the circle that he had stood in had been swept away, and the bodies of Nikabrik, the werewolf, and the hag had been taken out of the How.

He moved around the Table until he was standing in front of the carving of Aslan. He studied it closely, noting the way the flickering firelight seemed to give life to the eyes. It was a magnificent effect and he had to admire the unknown artist who had carved the relief so skillfully so as to make it look real. He glanced around, and then took a seat on one of the steps that would have led up to the Table if it had still been whole. He had seen Queen Lucy sitting on top of the table earlier, but he didn't have the same level of comfort to be so at ease in this room.

Doctor Cornelius and his Nurse had told him what stories they could about Narnia, and of the ones that they had been able to sneak past his uncle, Aslan had featured prominently in them. Caspian remembered hearing the legend of how Aslan had sung the world into being, a vague account of the battle against the White Witch (although after hearing Peter's version, he realized that the version he had been told had been lacking more than he had realized), and general tales about Aslan's love for his people. As a child, he had been fascinated by the idea of a great Lion who cared so much for his people.

The Telmarines had no deity who held (not commanded) the reverence that the Narnians bestowed on Aslan. To Caspian's people, the King was the highest authority and commanded all the respect and obedience of the Telmarines. The King's word was law, and that was why there had been times in his people's history when they had suffered. A cruel, selfish King could cause great harm, and those Kings had been despised and hated. But good, wise Kings (like Caspian's father had been, according to Cornelius) were given honor and respect by the Telmarines – they just were not worshipped. After all, even the greatest of Kings was still a mortal man.

He…admired…the Narnians who could put their faith in someone like Aslan, who was apparently as far beyond them as a star was above the earth. The trust such an act of faith required was extraordinary. Some part of him wanted to be able to believe as the Narnians did, but it was hard when he had grown up being taught to rely only on himself.

Queen Lucy had such amazing faith in Aslan for someone her age – she was certain that he was out there and that he would find them and give them the aid that they needed to save Narnia. Her trust and her willingness to ride headlong into danger, confident that the great Lion could protect her…Caspian had never trusted anything or anyone that much. He had been betrayed too many times, and even Cornelius' lessons were not strong enough to counter his own feelings after growing up in a court that was a constant battle of ambition and secrecy. Caspian found that he couldn't understand why Aslan would wait all this time to act – if he had the power to save Narnia, why wouldn't he use it? His inaction thus far seemed to be contrary to the idea of the benevolent, powerful King that the Narnians believed in.

_If we're going to win this battle, everyone will need to have complete faith that this plan will work. I know my people – the ambitious Lords will not honor the terms of the challenge that Uncle and King Peter agreed upon if Peter wins. If Aslan doesn't come, we will lose. Uncle's army is simply stronger and larger than ours._

Of course, that meant that he would need to start believing in Aslan too. But how did he even begin to put faith in a higher power like that?


	28. Chapter 27: Final Preparations

_Author's Note: Now I am quite happy...my muse has returned for good on this story. I've gotten more written on this story in the last week than I have in the last year, I think. We're so close to the end of this story - another 4-7 chapters, I think, depending how it breaks down, so I think this is going to be my full time writing project until it is finished. If I can actually manage to finish it, this will be the single longest story I've ever finished. Also, I meant to say this last chapter, but it completely slipped my mind: Special thanks to **unicorn-skydancer08** for being the 100th reviewer! I can't believe this story actually broke 100 reviews! Also, special hellos to **Wise Queen **and **doggirlyn** for joining the review boards!_

_Going for some heavy angst this chapter, so you may want to have a tissue or ten handy! *evil grin*_

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* * *

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**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Final Preparations**

_Aslan's How…one hour until the duel…_

Peter found his siblings waiting for him in the Council chamber after his conversation with Oreius. He had needed that talk with Oreius, and had taken the time to explain why they had disappeared. The General had understood easily, since he remembered when they had arrived in Narnia the first time, and held even less blame for them now than he had before – which had been none. As he stepped into the room, he knew instantly how worried his family was.

His siblings were usually very open about expressing their feelings – but all four of them had learned early in their reign that sometimes the Narnians needed to see them in complete control, projecting nothing but calm confidence. Right now, all three of them were serene, but to his experienced eyes, he could tell the expressions were forced. Their eyes all showed how uneasy they were about the duel.

They knew that he was an accomplished swordsman, both in tournament fighting and full battle, but this duel was not a tournament match with clearly defined rules and penalties for breaking them. This was quite simply a fight to the death. There were no rules, and the chances that Peter would win were equal to the chances that he would die. All it would take was for Miraz to get in one lucky blow.

Peter was forcing himself to appear calm too, but his nerves were beginning to get the best of him. After all, he didn't _want_ to die. He would go and fight his hardest, but if it happened that he had to die to save Narnia, he would give his life willingly. Whatever happened, he knew that Aslan would be with him, which did bring _some_ comfort.

"Peter, are you sure this is the wisest course?" Ever practical, Susan's voice held a tremor of fear. There was a reason Aslan had named her Gentle, after all. She felt things deeply, which Oreius had pointed out to Peter when he had called her Narnia's Heart. Although she was always kind and compassionate, it was with her siblings that her loyalty and love was the deepest and strongest.

Peter walked over to her and embraced her. As he pulled back to look into her eyes, he tried to smile in an attempt to reassure her. "The wisest course, Su? No, probably not. But it's the only option we have. We have to buy time for Lucy and Aislynn. I can do that. I don't have to kill Miraz; I just have to keep the duel going as long as possible."

Susan trembled slightly. "I just don't want to watch you die, Peter." Other than when they had been writing the challenge, this was the first time any of them had acknowledged the possibility that Peter might die during this combat out loud. They had spoken of him being defeated, or of Miraz being the better duelist, but they had yet to use the word "die" when speaking of the outcome. But now, with the duel an hour away, they couldn't deny it any longer. Peter swallowed hard before he spoke.

"I don't want to die, Su. But you know if I do, Aslan will welcome me into his Country, and I'll be waiting for the rest of you," Peter told her.

"Don't talk like that Peter!" Lucy practically flew across the room and latched herself to Peter at the waist.

"Lu…" Susan put her hands on her sister's shoulders and tried to pull her away.

"Aslan won't let it happen!" Narnia's Valiant Queen said firmly. "Do whatever you have to Peter, but you have to win. Nothing would be the same without you."

Peter had to smile at her vehemence. "I can't do that, Lucy. I am trying to show the Telmarines – and the Narnians – what an honorable King should be, so I must fight fairly and with honor."

"We cannot lose you, Peter!" his youngest sister said fiercely. "Edmund is honorable, but he can be sneaky when he fights! I've seen him do it!"

"Lucy, stop." Susan finally managed to pull Lucy away from Peter and held her tightly. Edmund stepped over and rested one hand on Susan's shoulder as Peter looked at all of them before returning his gaze to his little sister.

He knelt down in front of Lucy so that he could look her in the eyes. "Lu, you know how much I love you, right?" At her nod, he continued. "I trust Aslan to protect me – and that's all to you. _You_ helped me remember _why_ I trust him. I also know that you and Aislynn will find him and bring him to help us. But I have to act with honor in this fight. That's what Aslan would expect from a King _and _a Knight – and I'm both. The sneaky moves that Edmund uses are all well and good on the battlefield, but not in a duel of honor. You know that I'll do my best, and I have every intention of winning, but anything could happen. Don't go away frightened or angry with me, please?"

Lucy sniffled but nodded, before she flung her arms around Peter's neck. Peter held her close, praying that Aslan would not only protect him, but also his sweet little sister and his daughter. He couldn't imagine living without either of them. _Aslan, find them quickly so that they will be safe. The longer they search for you, the more danger they'll be in. Find them quickly, and protect them so that this war may end._

"Aunt Lucy?"

Peter and Lucy broke their embrace to see Aislynn standing in the doorway. When she noticed that she had their attention, she spoke again. "It's time. Caspian is waiting for us in the tunnel with Destrier."

Peter noticed that his daughter had changed into a plain brown wool dress, although this one had a divided riding skirt for practicality, a matching cloak with a hood to hide her dark hair, and she was wearing a practical pair of boots. She had a leather belt around her waist, and fastened to it was a dagger that he recognized. It had a sheath made of sapphire blue leather, ornamented with fine swirls of filigreed silver. Blue and silver were the colors of Archenland, and he knew immediately that his daughter was wearing the dagger that had belonged to her mother. She also carried a short bow over her shoulder and carried a quiver designed to be fastened to a saddle. Lucy stood out a little more in her red and silver dress, but as it was the only outfit that she had, she had no choice.

Lucy swallowed, but nodded. "I'll be right there, Aislynn." She looked back at Peter. "Please, be careful, Peter?"

"I will, but you have to promise me the same," Peter said, rising to his feet and looking over at Aislynn. "Both of you."

Both girls nodded. Peter stepped over to his daughter, hesitated for a moment, and then embraced her tightly. "Hurry back, Aislynn. We have things that we must talk about."

"I will, and we will," she whispered, returning his hug with one of her own. When she stepped back, she studied his face intently with her blue-violet eyes, as if trying to memorize his features. Then, as Lucy joined her, she bowed to Peter, Susan, and Edmund before she turned and left with Lucy. Peter watched her go until they vanished around a corner.

"Your Majesty, Queen Krisalyn requested to see you in her room," Oreius said softly.

Peter took a deep breath and nodded. He was about to go out to fight Miraz, but there were things that still needed to be said to his wife. He didn't have much time, but he knew he had time enough for a brief conversation with her before he'd have to meet Edmund. Since Edmund was acting as his squire, his younger brother would help him put on the armor that Peter had asked one of the dwarf smiths to make for him. He would have preferred his custom made suit, but there wasn't time for that detail, so a set of armor that would have been worn by a Faun was supposed to have been modified, and the additional pieces that he needed which a Faun did not were to have been crafted, since they didn't require as much work as a full set would. "Thank you, General. Ed, Su…prepare our forces while I attend to my lady, please." He had to stay calm and formal if he was going to get through this. There would be time for emotion later, when the battle was over.

They murmured agreement as Peter headed down the corridor in the opposite direction that Aislynn and Lucy had gone.

* * *

Krisalyn moved through the corridors at a brisk pace, trying to intercept Lucy before she departed on her quest. She had to hurry if she was going to make it back to her room before Peter answered her summons.

She arrived in the tunnel in time to find Caspian waiting with his stallion tacked up and ready to go. Everyone else was in place. Cor had moved his army out into the woods to set up the pincer strategy, Corin had left with half a dozen Mice, his scouts, and a regiment of infantry for their attack on the Telmarine siege weapons, and the Narnians were all in position if the call to battle came.

Caspian bowed when he spotted her approaching. "Your Majesty."

"Prince Caspian," Krisalyn acknowledged him with a nod. "Is my daughter…?"

"She has gone to alert Queen Lucy that all is in readiness," Caspian replied. "They should arrive momentarily."

She nodded before she shifted her grip on the items that she held. It was past time that they were returned to their rightful owner, after all. And now was the perfect time in which to do it, because there was a chance that they would be needed in the upcoming fight.

"Your Majesty?"

Caspian's voice broke into her thoughts. She glanced over at him. "Yes?"

The young Telmarine looked incredibly uncomfortable. She hadn't had much time to interact with him since her arrival and other than what she had heard from Cor and Corin when they were making the arrangements to bring the army up here, she knew nothing about him. Peter and the others apparently trusted him, and she did trust their judgment, but she wasn't as sure. After all, it was the Telmarines who had invaded Narnia, driven her out of her home and forced her to live in exile for twenty-five years. Of course, Caspian was too young to have had anything to do with that initial invasion, so she could not lay any direct blame on him. But it was still hard to know how to react to his presence.

And apparently, knowing that she was the Queen who had been effectively dethroned by his people made him just as uncertain how to interact with her. But he bravely continued, despite how uncomfortable he seemed to be. "Aslan named you Steadfast, didn't he?"

She glanced away, regret filling her. "He did, though I believe that it was ill-advised."

"Pardon?"

Krisalyn looked over at him again, unconsciously tightening her grip on the items in her hand. She tried to keep her voice level and calm as she spoke, not wanting to seem cross with him. "My faith in Aslan is not what it once was, Your Highness. At one time I believed in him with my whole heart – as I believed in Peter. But I'm afraid that some of my naïveté has been lost, and with it some of my faith."

Caspian frowned. "But…I thought all the people of Narnia believed in Aslan and revered him. That was what my Professor always told me."

Krisalyn sighed softly. She didn't really want to discuss her faith with the prince, but there was something about him…a sincerity perhaps…that convinced her that he wasn't just asking to make conversation. "You misunderstand me, Caspian. I still believe in Aslan – just not with the same innocence that I once did."

"Oh." The Prince fell silent for several moments, although Krisalyn had the sense that he wasn't finished and was just trying to figure out what the appropriate response would be that would allow him to continue the conversation without offending her. Sure enough, after another few seconds, he spoke again. "The reason I was asking was…" he paused again, apparently gathering his courage. "I've spent my whole life believing in my own strength and what I could accomplish on my own. I've never had a reason to believe in anything higher than that. But as we go into this fight…_everyone_ needs to believe in Aslan, I think. I just – I don't know where to start. How do I put my faith in something besides…well, besides my own strength?"

Despite herself, Krisalyn had to feel sorry for him. What he was describing sounded very cold and lonely. Even though her relationship with Aslan had changed drastically over the years, she couldn't imagine _not_ believing in Aslan, or revering him for everything he was and did. Having to depend solely on herself…

She tried to remember what it was like before Peter's disappearance – no, even further back than that. It had really begun to change the night that she had miscarried her first child. It was at that point that she realized that things were not always going to be happy. She had _thought_, prior to that night that she understood that Aslan had never promised an easy, challenge-free life. But even after her marriage, she'd had no comprehension of the level of despair and darkness that a person could sink to. She had seen everything through the innocent eyes of a child whose faith had never truly been tested, and so she believed with a naive purity that had been slowly eroded over time once that first challenge had arisen.

But before that – back when she had been innocent and happy to believe in the great Lion…what had she known then? What was it that had inspired her to believe the way she had?

Finally, she looked up and met Caspian's eyes. The Prince's dark brown orbs were hesitant, and shy. It was obvious that he wasn't used to putting himself forward in this manner, which was a remarkable difference from other royals that she had known. Even her cousins, Cor and Corin, where more outgoing and dynamic than Caspian was. Of course, they had each other to play off of, which was one of their greatest strengths. But Caspian, from what she understood, was an only child, raised mostly in isolation, away from others his age. The fact that he'd adapted so well to the situation he now found himself in spoke volumes of his character.

She sighed. "Ultimately, I would say that believing in someone like Aslan isn't about _faith_ per se, as much as it is about trust and loyalty. You give him your trust and he acts in good will and loyalty to you. But the converse is that he trusts you to follow and act in his name and to give your loyalty to him. I don't know if that helps you, Prince, but that is really the best way that I can describe it."

Caspian nodded and looked thoughtful as he considered her words. Before the conversation could continue, Aislynn and Lucy entered the tunnel, hurrying over to join them.

"Kris! Peter was on his way to meet you," Lucy said, surprised.

"I know. I'll join him in a moment, but I felt it was time these were returned to you." Krisalyn held out a slender, lion-pommeled dagger in a red leather sheath and a matching red leather pouch that held a bottle made of diamond to her fellow Queen. She watched as Lucy's eyes lit up with recognition.

"My dagger and cordial!" Lucy exclaimed, her tone full of joy and surprise. She started to reach for them, and then paused. Hope flared in her face, before she reached out and took her dagger. She secured it firmly to her belt, before she reached for her cordial. She held the bottle in its pouch for a moment, and then thrust it at Caspian.

"Your Majesty?" Caspian asked, dropping Destrier's reins quickly to take it from her.

"Give it to Edmund before the duel. Tell him I'm ordering him to use it on himself or Peter if either of them gets hurt. Peter will refuse, but Edmund will be logical about it. Tell him that if Peter refuses the cordial when he needs it, Edmund has orders to force the cordial down his throat if he has to."

That startled Caspian enough that a small snicker escaped him, until he saw the serious look on Lucy's face and realized that she wasn't joking. He sobered quickly. "Forgive me, Queen Lucy."

"I will _not _lose my brother, Caspian," Lucy said fiercely. "Either of them. Narnia cannot afford to lose her High King _or_ her Just King, and our family won't be the same without either of them."

Krisalyn appreciated Lucy's fervor on the subject, but she knew Peter, and she knew the only way he would accept a drop of the precious cordial was if he were literally at death's door – and even then he would resist, since this combat _was_ a fight to the death. Edmund would be more practical about the matter, as Lucy had pointed out, but short of tying Peter down, he'd never get Peter to accept it. It was not her place, however, to comment on Lucy's orders. Lucy was still one of Aslan's chosen four and she still outranked Krisalyn.

Her intention for coming here had been taken care of, and she needed to go and meet Peter, but she could not help lingering to watch as Caspian slipped the leather pouch onto his belt, and then picked up Destrier's reins again to hold him so that the two young ladies could mount. Aislynn cupped her hands together so that Lucy could use them as a mounting block, since Destrier was so tall. Lucy placed her foot into Aislynn's hands, grabbed the saddle, and then yanked herself into place as Aislynn boosted her up. Once Lucy was in place, she slid back as far as she could go so that Aislynn could mount in front of her, which she did quickly, before she took the reins from Caspian.

Caspian lingered at Destrier's side for a moment and looked up at Aislynn. Krisalyn hung back, but she was watching the scene closely, and she noticed the worry that was clearly etched on his face. She frowned slightly, wondering if it was at all possible…

"Good luck," Caspian said softly.

"Thank you," Aislynn replied. Behind her, holding tightly to Aislynn's waist, Lucy managed a tight-lipped smile at Caspian.

"We'll find him, Caspian," the youngest Queen said confidently.

"I know you will, Queen Lucy. I have faith in you." Caspian hesitated a moment, before he swallowed hard. "I'll protect your brothers and sister to the best of my ability until you return with Aslan."

"Thank you," Lucy whispered.

Caspian hesitated again, as if he wanted to say something more, but instead he gave Destrier a tremendous slap on the flanks. The massive black stallion shot forward, startled, down the tunnel at a fast canter.

And that was that. Her daughter and her sister-in-law were gone. Before Caspian could say anything more, Krisalyn turned and headed back down the passageway that led back towards the chamber that she was using to meet Peter. However, she could not help winging a prayer out and hoping that Aslan would hear it. _Aslan, protect my daughter, please. Find them swiftly, and keep them safe until this is over and Narnia is free again._

She headed down the nearly deserted corridors as quickly as she could without running. Although all of the Narnians should be at their posts by now, if anyone was running around making last minute preparations for any reason, she needed to look calm and confident. She had thought long and hard about what she was about to offer after she had sent Edmund out to deliver the challenge.

Edmund was perfectly capable of helping his brother ready himself for the duel – but her ritual of helping Peter had begun the first time that he had had to ride to battle after their wedding, and each time she had helped him, he had come home safely. It was a nine-year habit between them now, but she suspected that Peter wouldn't think about it. However, she was hoping that it would bring Peter some comfort and let him know that she still cared about him. Above all, she didn't want him going into this fight distracted or worried about her. All of his focus would need to be on the duel if he was going to win.

She arrived back at her room – or rather, the room she was sharing with Susan, Lucy, and Aislynn – to find Peter was waiting for her. He didn't appear anxious or worried to a casual observer, but she knew better. The calm, neutral expression was his court mask – he used it whenever he was listening to a petition or reserving judgment about a matter. It gave no clue as to what his inner thoughts might be, and if someone was hiding something, it tended to make them nervous, which could cause them to reveal more than originally intended. Peter was adept at using this mask, but she could see right through it, since she had one of her own.

"Krisalyn? You needed to see me?" His voice and the inflections in his tone and word choice always gave it away too. Right now, he was trying to stay calm, but there was a hint of anxiety in the way he said her name. The little lilt that he put on the end of her name betrayed his feelings.

"Yes, Peter, I did. I apologize for making you wait. I had to see Lucy and Aislynn off."

"I understand," Peter assured her. "What did you need from me?"

She pulled aside the makeshift curtain and entered the room, and he followed her in. She was just grateful that she had laid everything out before going down to return Lucy's things. There would not be time to get everything out now if she hadn't already made the initial preparations.

Two sets of armor – Peter's and Edmund's – were laid out on a slab of rock that was meant to be used as a table. The only items that were not visible were Peter's shield, and Rhindon. Both would be returned in a few minutes, but not yet. It was the final part of their ritual.

"Your armor has been readied for you, my King," she said, speaking the words that had become as much a part of their ritual as the actual act of assisting him had. "I pray, my lord, that you would allow me to be your humble servant, once again, as before."

Peter had stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight of the scarlet tabard, emblazoned with the golden lion, the polished plate armor, and the carefully crafted dwarf-made chainmail. It took him a moment of just gaping in surprise before he answered, "I would welcome your assistance, my lady."

Moving over to the armor, she picked up a heavy, quilted linen tunic and leggings, as well as a well-worn pair of knee-high boots and handed them to him to put on instead of what he currently wore. As he took them from her, she turned her back in order to give him some privacy. True, she had seen him unclothed before, many times in fact, but this time it felt different. There was just something about the fact that he was so much younger than she was, at least physically, that made her a little uncomfortable. Things had changed so much for them – she didn't know if they could ever be the same again.

She heard clothing rusting for a few minutes as Peter shed his current outfit and exchanged it for the quilted linen that she'd given him. The heavy fabric, quilted to add padding, was necessary to protect his skin from being chafed or bruised by the metal of his armor whenever a sword or shield made contact with it. It would also keep the individual links of the chainmail from pinching his skin uncomfortably. Yes, the quilted linen would add some weight to what he was carrying, but although it was thick, it was light-weight on account of it being late summer, so it shouldn't cause him to overheat during the combat. While she knew he wouldn't have minded wearing his other clothing under his armor, it wouldn't have provided enough protection for him.

"My armor, my lady?"

Krisalyn reached back over to the table and picked up a pair of leggings made of soft, thin, yet sturdy leather. From the knee up, the leather was visible, but below the knee the finest dwarf-made chainmail had been attached to protect Peter's legs. She handed them to Peter, who nodded in thanks and quickly climbed into them. Krisalyn knelt down and reached underneath the leather in order to pull the legs of the linen pair down so that they wouldn't be bunched up between the boots and the mail, which would negate the purpose of the linen. She rose to her feet as Peter tied the leather leggings at his waist, and turned back to the table to retrieve an open-backed hauberk of mail.

The hauberk was made completely of chainmail, and extended down over Peter's body from the neck to the knee, which was what gave his thighs the same protection as his lower legs. Peter _could_ have chosen to wear plate mail over his thighs, but after the first battle at Beruna he had decided against it, saying that while the plate mail was fine on his lower legs and the rest of his body, it felt too restricting on his upper legs, especially while riding. The hauberk also extended from his shoulders to halfway down his forearms. Peter shrugged into the hauberk and Krisalyn moved around behind him to tie the points together to keep it closed. It tied closed at the back of his neck, the middle of his back, his waist, and at the back of each thigh, and he stood calmly while she tied it closed.

Krisalyn checked all of her knots after tying them. It was important to make sure the laces were secure, since Peter would not want his armor falling off mid-battle. Although this was a suit of armor that she had never dressed him in before – he had gone through several suits by the time they had married – she remembered the guidelines for tightening and fastening the armor properly.

She picked up several pieces of plate mail for his legs and feet and knelt down to put those on for him. First the sabatons, which covered the tops of his feet and his ankles. Each sabaton consisted of several thin, strong, dwarf-made steel that had been hammered into plates that were hinged together to allow for freedom of movement and flexibility, while protecting Peter's feet from a wayward sword. Just above the sabatons were the greaves, which extended from above his ankles up to his knees, designed similarly to the sabatons, only without the hinging, since the shin couldn't flex the same way a knee, ankle, or foot could. She tightened the straps around the back of his leg carefully, making sure not to pull them too tightly and cut off circulation, nor to fasten them so loosely that they would be shifting and slipping around his legs.

Protecting Peter's legs was especially important. Although most people didn't think of the legs as a vulnerable point, they were in fact one of the greatest vulnerabilities. Slice an opponent's leg out from under them, or break a bone with a powerful enough blow and they were helpless to avoid you, or to even get off the field. On a battlefield, a crippled fighter was a dead fighter.

"Krisalyn, this is my old armor from before we met – how did you find it?" Peter's voice was quiet, but curious.

"Many treasures were left at Cair Paravel the day we fled, but we took the ones that I believed were the most important," she replied simply as she stood again and this time picked up the steel collar that would protect his neck and throat. He stood still while she worked it over his head, making sure the padding rested exactly along the edge of the chainmail, and the collar didn't come up any higher than just below his jaw.

"Kris, what happened the day that you left Cair Paravel?"

Krisalyn turned away, her lips tightening out of his sight as she reached for the chest plate. "It was frightening, Peter. May we leave it at that?"

There was a rustling sound and a faint _chink_ of metal before Peter's hands settled on her upper arms from behind. She was slightly taller than he was, and his breath was soft and warm on the back of her neck as he whispered, "It hurt you, Krisalyn. Please, tell me what happened. I know I cannot change what happened, but perhaps I can comfort you."

Krisalyn could hear the faint note of pleading in his voice and knew that although he was asking as her husband, he was also asking as Narnia's High King. She could choose not to answer and he would not press, but he wanted to know, badly, for more than one reason.

"It was one of the gryphon scouts, Saren, who brought us word of the invasion, but by the time we learned of it, they had penetrated almost as far as the Shuddering Woods. Oreius rallied the army and left as soon as they were assembled, and the rest of us began making contingency plans."

"_Your Majesty, if Saren's report is accurate, we may have difficulty repelling them," Sir Giles Fox said as they studied maps of the area where the invaders had last been seen. "We should take precautions if the army fails."_

"_What would you recommend, my good Fox?" Krisalyn asked, grateful that her maid Alana had been willing to keep an eye on Aislynn so that she could attend to this crisis._

_Giles looked thoughtful for a moment. "It seems to me, Majesty, that if these invaders are as cruel as Saren indicated – shooting without any reason to believe that he was hostile – we cannot permit them to trap you and Princess Aislynn here. I say that we must have a plan of escape in place so that if General Oreius sends word that these invaders cannot be stopped, we can flee to safety."_

_Ratha, the Black Dwarf representative, scoffed at the Fox. "Why do you believe the army will fail? Narnia has not been successfully invaded in thirty-five years."_

"_I do not think they will," Giles countered, wrapping his thick red tail around his body to cover his forepaws. "I trust Oreius to lead the army well, but I feel we must have a contingency plan. There is the matter of Aslan's warning. He told Tumnus that a great danger lay in Narnia's future. That __**was**__ the reason for the construction of the How, after all."_

_The others, even Ratha, had to admit that the Fox had a valid point. Krisalyn spoke up then. "If we must flee, we shall head first for the How, but if that fails, we must make for Anvard. My uncle will not deny us refuge, and he will send his army to assist us."_

"_Those who would go with you, should travel lightly," Owain said. "I would not be able to flee south regardless." The stately Oak Dryad was steady and calm as he spoke._

"_I think that we should also conceal all references to the Kings and Queens, especially you and Princess Aislynn," Tumnus added. "If these invaders are seeking to claim Narnia for themselves and are not aware that this is an inhabited land, we cannot let them learn there is a living heir."_

"_I would agree with you, Tumnus," Krisalyn said, shuddering at the idea that the invaders might hunt Aislynn down to break the royal bloodline and give them uncontested rights to the throne of Narnia. "However, there are some things too precious to leave behind that we cannot risk falling into their hands. Rhindon, for one. Also, King Edmund's swords and armor, Queen Susan's bow and horn, and Queen Lucy's cordial and dagger. The rest we could conceal in the deepest treasure room."_

"You protected these things?" Peter asked quietly as Krisalyn finished attaching his shoulder pauldrons to his chest plate. As she stepped away from him and picked up the scarlet tabard that was emblazoned with a golden, rampant lion, he rolled his shoulder and flexed his arms to make sure that they were fastened properly and that he'd have full range of motion to swing his sword.

"They were important to you and the others, thus they were important to Narnia," Krisalyn replied as she eased the velvet tabard over his head. "When Oreius returned a few days later, exhausted and injured, we fled. We tried to reach the How, but the way was blocked, so instead we headed back to the coast and traveled due south until we reached the mountains. The main pass to Archenland was also blocked – the Telmarines were moving faster than we were, because we were traveling by night, in secret, and they were moving openly. With the aid of the Fauns and the Naiad who lived in Glasswater Creek, we found a pass through the mountains."

Peter reached out and stilled her hands as she fastened a brown leather belt around his waist. "Kris…I am so sorry for what you went through." His blue eyes filled with tears. "Believe me, if I had known…"

Krisalyn reached up and touched his lips with the tips of her fingers, silencing him. "I do not blame you, Peter. Not anymore. I was badly hurt by your abandonment – as it seemed to be at the time – but I understand, and I forgive you."

* * *

_The Stone Table…fifteen minutes until the duel…_

Caspian knew that he should be waiting by the entrance to the How for King Peter and King Edmund, but there were still a few minutes to go until the duel began, and he was still seeking answers. He had found himself wandering back down to the Stone Table after speaking with Queen Krisalyn and seeing Princess Aislynn and Queen Lucy off. Some of what the Steadfast Queen had told him made sense. In a way, he imagined that it was similar to what was expected of a true King or Queen – to serve in exchange for the loyalty of your people, and the right to call upon them in times of need.

Once again, he gazed up at the carved relief of Aslan. _It is all about trust and loyalty, Queen Krisalyn said. Certainly Their Majesties are putting a lot of trust in Aslan, and in King Peter. If Miraz wins, they will surrender, and they will die. But they've accepted that, because they trust Aslan. How can I do any less?_

Slowly, Caspian knelt down and placed his fisted hand over his heart as he lowered his gaze to the dirt floor in front of him. "Great Aslan, all my life I've wondered if you were real. I've wanted to believe, but I also wanted proof, because the stories did not match the reality of my life. Now, somehow, you've sent your Kings and Queens back to us, and they believe in you so strongly that they are willing to die. Perhaps that is the proof I've been seeking all these years." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I don't know if you can hear me, or if you really are there, but…I trust you. If your chosen four can risk their lives and their futures in your name, so can I."

A soft clapping caught his attention and he looked up, startled, his hand automatically going for his dagger. King Edmund was standing in the doorway. Caspian rose quickly to his feet, knowing that he should have been in his place. He stepped over, intending to apologize, but as he opened his mouth the King raised a hand.

"Do not apologize," Edmund said, anticipating what he was going to say. "I am pleased that you have finally put faith in Aslan. I know that was one of the things that was most troubling Peter."

"It has been difficult…trying to decide what I should do," Caspian admitted.

"You're not alone in that," Edmund told him. "I felt much the same at first…but that is another story for another time. I must go and dress, and you'll need to get to your place as well." Edmund turned, about to go, when Caspian remembered the cordial Lucy had given him.

"King Edmund, wait!" He fumbled the cordial off his belt as the younger boy turned. He offered the pouch with the bottle in it to the King. "Your sister bade me give this to you before she left."

"Lu's cordial? But why?" Edmund took the pouch and weighed it in his hand as he looked between it and Caspian.

"She was most concerned for the High King's life in the duel. Her exact words were, 'I'm ordering him' – by which she meant you – 'to use it on himself or Peter if either of them gets hurt. Tell him that if Peter refuses the cordial when he needs it, Edmund has orders to force the cordial down his throat if he has to'."

Edmund blinked in surprise as Caspian repeated Lucy's words verbatim, before a small smile broke out on his face. "Good old Lu," he said softly, before he shook his head. "She's so predictable." Edmund looked closely at Caspian. "I'll hold onto it in case it is needed during the battle, but I can't use it during the duel, even if Peter _would_ accept a drop."

Caspian frowned. "Why?"

Edmund looked at him, surprised, before he remembered that Caspian probably knew nothing about the gifts that they had received from Father Christmas all those years ago. "Just like Susan's horn, Lucy's cordial is magical. One drop will heal any wound instantly." Edmund turned and began heading up the corridor, and Caspian hurried to catch up as Edmund continued, "This is a duel of honor, and it is to the death."

Caspian saw the King pause and swallow, pain and deep emotion flaring across his face and through his eyes.

"It would not be fair, nor honorable, for Peter to keep using the cordial to heal his wounds when Miraz has no magic of the same," Edmund finished, regaining control of his features.

"But this is for Narnia's survival," Caspian objected. "Surely, as the offended party, no one would question the High King's right to an advantage."

"It doesn't work that way, Caspian. Emotionally, I would agree with you, and with Lucy. I do not want to lose Peter. He is my best friend and my brother, as well as being my King."

Edmund paused again, and this time Caspian distinctly saw tears in the younger boy's eyes. He realized that, for all his poise and calm, the upcoming duel and the idea that King Peter might die was literally tearing Edmund apart. Caspian felt very uncomfortable with the fact that he was seeing this. Because he was an only child, he knew nothing about the bonds that could form between siblings.

Edmund dashed a hand across his face, wiping the tears away, before he took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was steady and his face calm. "Logically, however, I would agree with Peter. We are Knights as well as Kings, and Aslan expects his Knights _and_ his Kings to act with fairness, honor, and chivalry. Peter – and I – can do no less. If Peter wins –" _if he survives_ was the unspoken meaning behind the words, Caspian knew – "then he may accept a drop, especially if the Telmarines break the agreement and attack." Edmund tightened his grip on the small pouch. "I will hold onto this, however. Knowing Peter the way I do, I expect he'll need it."

They walked together in silence, until they reached the room given over to the ladies. Edmund needed to get his armor from Krisalyn, and Caspian had decided to wait with him, so that they younger boy would not have to wait for Peter alone, with only his fears for company. But as they approached, they heard Peter speaking from inside the room.

"Kris, I am so sorry for what you went through. Believe me, if I had known…"

Krisalyn's voice was soft, barely audible over the faint sound of metal clinking together. "I do not blame you, Peter. Not anymore. I was badly hurt by your abandonment – as it seemed to be at the time – but I understand, and I forgive you. You're here now, that is all that matters." She paused, and there was slightly louder metallic sounds coming from inside the room. "Every time I have helped you with your armor, you've come back to me. I expect you to come back from this fight too."

Peter didn't reply for a moment, but Caspian and Edmund didn't dare move, not wanting to be overheard. They didn't like eavesdropping on this very personal, private conversation, but it was too late.

When Peter finally spoke, his tone was firm. "I will come back to you, Krisalyn. I may not have been able to control what happened before, but this time I can. Miraz will not defeat me – he will not defeat Narnia." There was more rustling and clinking of armor before he spoke. "I love you, Krisalyn – that will never change."

"And I love you, Peter," she whispered. "All I ask is that you fight today for Narnia, for Aslan, and for us. I will be waiting with open arms for you when you return."

Silence from inside the room then didn't tell Caspian what was happening, but as the horns blew, he knew that was the signal that his uncle and his uncle's men were approaching. He glanced at Edmund, then cleared his throat loudly. "King Peter? Your opponent approaches."

Edmund shot a glare at him before pushing aside the curtain. "Peter?"

Peter and Krisalyn were standing near the table where Edmund's armor was laid out again. Peter was fully dressed, _sans_ gauntlets, helm, and sword, and he was just stepping back as Edmund and Caspian entered. Krisalyn looked over at the two of them. "Edmund, come quickly and I will assist you," she said, turning away from Peter and reaching for Edmund's armor. Caspian stepped over to help her, seeing as how Peter was hampered by his own armor.

Edmund stepped over to her, grateful that he was still wearing the tunic and trousers from earlier when he'd had his armor on. There was less formality as Edmund hastened into the chainmail leggings, tall boots, and chain mail shirt than he imagined that there would have been between his brother and Krisalyn. As he adjusted the shirt and Caspian tied it closed, Krisalyn knelt down and strapped his greaves and sabatons on over his boots.

As Krisalyn rose to her feet, Caspian had already secured Edmund's chest plate and collar, and was reaching for the rerebraces that would protect Edmund's upper arms. As the Prince fastened those in place, Krisalyn secured the couter plates that protected his elbows to the vambraces before strapping the whole arrangement to his forearms and elbows. She quickly attached the couter plates to the rerebraces as well.

"It's a good thing we're in a hurry, or I would have to protest being treated like a doll," Edmund said mildly as he stood as still as he could to make their job easier. Although Caspian and Krisalyn were hurrying, they were not skimping on making sure that every piece of his armor was secure and tight enough to be effective.

Peter laughed, but quickly tried to smother it with his hand when Edmund glared at him. "S-sorry Ed, but you said it, not I," Peter wheezed through his half-strangled chuckles.

Edmund sighed in mock-frustration, glad that he was able to lighten the atmosphere a little, which had been the whole point of his comment. "It's a good thing I love you, Peter." He shook his head as Caspian reached for his helm, and instead indicated his swords. Unlike Peter, he preferred to fight with duel swords. His smaller stature and younger age at the time they had first been made Kings had made wielding a shield difficult, so Oreius had instead instructed him in the use of two swords first, and only taught him to use a shield once Edmund's strength and size had increased enough to make it a viable technique.

Peter shook his head, chuckling a few more times before he noticed Caspian was also attaching Lucy's cordial to Edmund's belt. "Lu's cordial? Ed, why –?"

"Our beloved sister left it for me to use on you, you stubborn prat," Edmund replied.

"Ed, you know I can't," Peter began, but Edmund interrupted him.

"I know, Peter, and I wouldn't try during the duel – but if you _do_ get hurt, I will not let you go into a battle against the entire Telmarine army without taking some, even if I have to sit on you and force it down your throat in front of the entire army," Edmund said fiercely, a determined light in his brown eyes.

Peter had to smile at that. "Deal." His face went blank, just before he slowly and carefully – mindful of his armor – knelt down in front of Edmund, bowing his head. "I would have your blessing, my King."

Edmund physically jerked and let out an odd splutter that was halfway between a cry of protest and choking back the cry. For a moment, his brown eyes went wide with fear and horror, Caspian noticed, but then the Just King composed himself and nodded.

* * *

Edmund wanted to scream in protest at what his brother was asking for. He shouldn't have been surprised – he should have been expecting it, in fact. Along with the ritual of Krisalyn assisting Peter with his armor, there had been a second ritual just between he and Peter. Whenever one of them had to ride out to the possibility of battle – since they hadn't always been able to go together – it had become habit for the one who was staying to offer a blessing to the one who was leaving. It was their way of encouraging each other, and confirming that if the worst should happen, the one who was remaining behind would then hold the authority of both of them.

_No, Peter! You are not going to do this to me!_ Edmund screamed silently. It might have been a ritual between them, but it was there for more than one reason, after all. By asking Edmund for his blessing, especially with both Caspian and Krisalyn witnessing, Peter was indicating that if he failed, Edmund would become Peter's heir, and all command decisions regarding the army and the battle would pass to him, unless Aslan indicated otherwise.

Krisalyn would recognize the significance of what Peter was asking for. He glanced at her quickly and saw the realization and fear in her eyes, but she made no outward sign. She saw him looking at her and nodded.

_Peter, you had better come back after all of this!_ Edmund scolded his brother, wanting to tell him that but knowing that he couldn't, not in those words at least. But in the words of blessing…that was another matter entirely. And since no two blessings were alike, Edmund could put his own feelings into it freely.

Reaching out with trembling hands, Edmund placed them on top of Peter's blonde hair. "May Aslan walk with thee and protect thee this day as thou dost enter the conflict." He relied on the formality of the words, using the older, more formal style to get him through this, as well as to show the seriousness of what he was accepting from Peter by doing this. Peter had called him "my King", signifying that he accepted Edmund as having as much authority, more in fact, if he failed. "May thy strength and thy faith endure as the battle dost rage around thee."

* * *

There was a formal cadence to the words as Edmund spoke, and an ancient feel to the blessing, as if it had been passed down through many years and many Kings before the two who stood in front of him. Caspian was in awe as he listened, but he didn't fail to notice that Edmund's hands were trembling, and his face was impassive, as if that was the only way he could make it through this.

"May thy every action this day reflect the glory of the great Lion, who didst sing Narnia into being," Edmund continued, before Caspian saw him swallow hard. "And if this day should be thy last, may Aslan welcome thee into his Country, and keep thy spirit in peace from this day forth."

As Peter looked up, an expression of gratitude on his face, Caspian felt his eyes mist up. He blinked them clear in time to see Peter stand, only to be grabbed by the Just King and a gentle kiss placed on each of the High King's cheeks. At that, Caspian found that he couldn't stop the tears any longer. There was such pain and fear in Edmund's eyes, the impact was like a dagger to the heart. The love between the two brothers was stronger than anything Caspian could have imagined, built on a foundation of so many shared experiences that he doubted he would ever have as many as these two Kings. It was so deeply personal, and yet they had no difficulty showing it to others. Caspian couldn't help but form a silent prayer in his heart. _ Aslan, let this day end with these brothers together, whatever happens. Do not permit them to be separated by death. If one must go, take the other too, that they may be together in your Country._

A distant horn broke the silence that had fallen over them. Caspian dashed the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand as Peter straightened.

The High King's face was set and resolute. "Miraz has arrived. Ed?"

"I'm with you, Pete," Edmund replied, his voice slightly thick.

"My lord, take back what is yours," Unnoticed, Krisalyn had moved over to a chest in the corner of the room and opened it. Now, she withdrew a silver shield emblazoned in scarlet with a rampant lion, and a sword in a red leather sheath. The hilt of the sword was wrapped in red leather, and the pommel was gold and carved into the shape of a lion's head. These she handed to Peter with due solemnity.

"Rhindon!" Peter said, relieved and surprised. "I wondered what had become of it."

"It has been in my keeping these long years," Krisalyn replied before she reached back into the trunk and withdrew a quiver that held red-fletched arrows and a beautiful bow. She closed the trunk and carefully locked it, before turning back to them.

Peter hefted his shield and slipped his arms through the leather straps on the back, then handed Rhindon to Edmund. "Come."

Edmund picked up Peter's helmet and gauntlets, before following his brother out of the room. Caspian allowed the Queen to precede him, and together they headed through the maze of tunnels towards the How's entrance.

Half of the Narnian army – the fastest and strongest of the lot, such as the Centaurs, Minotaurs, Leopards and Cheetahs – were waiting in the first room. They parted to allow their Kings, Queen, and chosen Prince to pass, cheering them on, before they closed ranks. Tumnus was waiting right beside the entrance with Queen Susan, and he was holding the reins of the chestnut horse that Larez had been riding when he'd been captured.

Susan easily noticed what her brothers were wearing, as well as the presence of Rhindon and the gleaming shield that Peter carried, so she showed no surprise when Krisalyn handed her the quiver. She only strapped it on with a soft word of thanks, before pulling out the bow and stringing it. She looked at her brothers, worry showing in her brown eyes, and to Caspian it appeared that she wanted to say something, but instead she only embraced them both before she headed up the ramp that led to the terrace where Trumpkin was waiting with the archers.

Peter turned, about to go up the ramp and onto the battlefield, when Krisalyn stopped him by placing her hand on his arm and tugging very lightly. He turned back to face her. "Kris?"

The Steadfast Queen hesitated, but then she leaned forward and pressed a soft, yet passionate kiss to her husband's lips. She caught him completely by surprise, given her hesitance for this level of affection and intimacy since her arrival. Before he could gather his wits enough to respond, she was pulling away.

Peter stared at her, bemused, as she whispered. "That blessing is from me, in hope that you'll return safely to me, my love."

"I will," Peter finally managed.

Krisalyn nodded and stepped back, but before Peter and Edmund could turn again, she suddenly went very pale and swooned, falling limply to the ground.

"Krisalyn!" Peter cried, dropping immediately to his knees to gather her into his arms. Edmund thrust Rhindon at Caspian and dropped as well. "Ed, the cordial!"

Edmund was already opening the pouch and removing the diamond flask, uncorking it as Peter spoke the command. He started to lean forward to administer a drop, but Krisalyn's hand came up and clamped around his wrist with surprising strength, given how pale she was. "No. I'm fine," she breathed, although her voice was faint, even in the silence, for the Narnians had all gone quiet when she had kissed Peter. "It will pass in a few minutes." She took several deep breaths. "You need to go, Peter."

"I'm not leaving you like this," the High King said stubbornly.

"You must. Miraz is waiting. If you don't show…"

"Peter, she's right," Edmund agreed. "If you delay much longer, Miraz will have grounds to declare the challenge void and attack."

Peter started to shake his head again, but Tumnus interrupted. "My King, go to the combat. I will stay with Her Majesty until she's recovered."

Peter hesitated, glancing back down at Krisalyn, who, although pale, seemed to be recovering fairly quickly. She was already trying to maneuver out of his lap and sit up so that she could lean against the wall. "All right. Kris, are you sure…?"

"Positive, my lord. Unfortunately, I am very used to this by now. It will pass in a few more minutes." She looked up at him. "Go Peter."

* * *

**Don't forget to review!**


	29. Chapter 28: Danger From All Sides

_Author's Note: Here we go again! Another chapter for you, loyal readers. I am so sorry this was not posted sooner…it's been in my writing binder that I take to work with me to use at lunch for almost a week, but I've been so busy in the evenings that I haven't had time to sit down and type it up. My apologies, and with luck the next chapter should be out soon. Don't forget to review!_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: **_**Danger From All Sides**_

_Thump-thump…thump-thump…thump-thump…_

Aislynn clung tightly to Destrier's reins as the massive stallion raced along among the trees. Her aunt clung to her waist just as tightly in order to stay on as they left the How further behind with every stride. Although most of her attention was focused on their path and guiding their mount through the forested ravine, part of her mind was back at the How with the rest of her family. _Father must be in combat with Miraz by now. I hope his skill with the sword is as good as everyone claims. I don't want to lose him before I really get to know him. Mighty Aslan, keep my family safe, please._

Other than giving her somewhat terse directions, Lucy had been silent. Aislynn was fairly certain that the young Queen was praying as fervently for her brother's safety as she was. After all, Lucy stood to lose as much as Aislynn, just in a different way, if they failed. She only hoped that _neither _of them lost _anything_ in this horrible conflict.

They had been riding for almost a half hour now, as close as she could figure, and thus far she had seen no sign of the Lion, but Lucy had seen him near the Dancing Lawn, and they were still some distance from there. She only hoped that they wouldn't have to go all the way there before Aslan showed himself.

A horn blast shattered the forest – not a Narnian horn either. Aislynn felt Lucy stiffen as shouts followed the horn. "They've seen us!" the youngest Queen cried.

Aislynn glanced around quickly and spotted Telmarine riders on the ridge above them. She released the reins with one hand and used it to slap Destrier's neck. "Yah! Ride on!" she cried to the stallion as she gave him more rein. They had to lose that patrol!

Destrier responded to the encouragement and the free rein with a snort before quickening his pace, lunging into the extra rein with each stride. Now was the moment when the two girls would find the true value of Caspian's prized stallion. It would be his speed and endurance that would see them safely through. Caspian had told them that Destrier was one of the swiftest and strongest horses in the stables, so with luck and Aslan's blessing, the black stallion would be able to gain enough distance on their pursuers that they could lose them among the trees.

Branches whipped past them as Destrier's long strides powered them forward, following a small stream that would eventually feed into the river Lucy and her siblings had crossed at the great gorge where she had seen Aslan. Aislynn kept her eyes ahead, not glancing back to see if they had lost the Telmarines. She could only hope that Destrier was swifter and fresher, or that there was no way down from that ridge. They needed more time! _Aslan, please!_

_Whuff ….whuff …whuff …_came the horse's steady breaths as he ran.

"Come on Destrier!" she called, trying to encourage the stallion further. The stallion's ears were swept back, listening to his rider's commands.

"They're still there!" Lucy yelled into Aislynn's ear. "They're having no trouble keeping up! They have a clearer path!"

"We have to get out of this ravine!" Aislynn called back. She started scanning the sloping sides, looking for some place where they could ride to the top – a path, a game trail, even an easing of the slope – she would take anything at this point.

_Whuff…whuff…whuff…_

Destrier's snorted breaths seemed louder in her ears as the shouts and horns from the riders up on the ridge sounded again. They had to get up to the ridge! _Aslan!_

_Thump-thump…thump-thump…thump-thump…_her heartbeat was as loud in her ears as Destrier's hoofbeats, and part of her fancied that her heartbeat was beginning to match the rhythm of his strides.

But there was no path, no way out…

_Aslan, help us!_

* * *

_Aslan's How…_

As the High King and his brother headed up the ramp into the afternoon sunlight, Caspian mounted the horse that was waiting for him. It would be difficult, having to wait for the signal that might not come. All he wanted was to stand ready to assist the High King in whatever way he could. He understood why they had said that he couldn't stand as a marshal or as the High King's squire – tradition and matters of honor and such – but that didn't stop him from wanting to _be_ _there_.

_I've got an important job,_ Caspian reminded himself. _If the Lords or my uncle violate the terms of the challenge, I have to be ready to lead the charge._

It was an important job, one that Caspian would have expected the Kings to assign to General Oreius, and it showed a high level of trust in him, especially given his mistakes to date – but it didn't ease the frustration. _I've messed up already, at the raid and then again with Nikabrik. Unless the Kings ask me to help, I have to be ready to perform my task. This is my chance to redeem myself._

The Narnians were cheering wildly as King Peter and King Edmund reached the top of ramp for the walk to the ruins that would be the battlefield. Caspian couldn't help but wonder if his people –whether they ended up being Narnians or Telmarines – would ever cheer for him like that. He wanted to think so, but he wasn't sure if they would ever trust him enough, or care about him enough.

He glanced back at Queen Krisalyn and saw that she was slowly being helped to her feet by Faun Tumnus. She still looked pale, but she seemed steady enough on her feet. Satisfied that the High Queen was in good hands, Caspian flipped the reins and urged the stallion to follow the two Kings out into the sunlight.

He blinked as the late afternoon sunlight reached his eyes. The two Kings had reached the ruins, and King Peter had taken a seat on a stool that had been brought out of the How for just that purpose as King Edmund helped him with his gauntlets and double-checked the rest of his armor. Caspian raised his eyes to look across at his uncle's side of the ring as he rode his horse close enough that he could clearly hear what was being said on King Peter's side, but far enough away that he couldn't be confused with one of the marshals.

Miraz was seated on a folding chair as General Glozelle helped him with the last of his armor. Lord Sopespian was also there, along with a Telmarines soldier Caspian didn't recognize. His uncle was fixing the two Kings with an intense glare, probably designed to intimidate them. Whether or not it was having any effect, Caspian couldn't tell, since he couldn't see Peter or Edmund's faces. He suspected not, however, imagining that both Kings must have faced things much more frightening than his uncle throughout the years of their reign.

As King Edmund finished securing his brother's helm, Peter stood up. Caspian was just close enough to hear when the High King looked at his brother and spoke. "Let's settle this. Ed?"

The Just King picked Rhindon up from where it was leaning against a pillar. He offered the sword, hilt-first. Peter grasped the lion-headed hilt in his right hand and drew it from the sheath before he turned to face Miraz. Both combatants stepped onto the paved floor of the ruins. Caspian tried to stay relaxed as he glanced at King Edmund, who had turned so that he was in profile to Caspian. The younger King's gaze was fastened on his brother. _Aslan, protect the High King this day._

* * *

When Krisalyn had collapsed, Peter had been frantic. The fear for her, especially given what she had told him about her health, held him in a stranglehold. He didn't even acknowledge the cheers of the Narnians as he walked out to the appointed battlefield. If he didn't trust Tumnus implicitly, he wouldn't have been leaving her. But Tumnus would take good care of her. _His _job was to survive this duel so he could see her again.

Glenstorm was facing them as he and Edmund approached, his sword held aloft. As they passed him, the Centaur lifted his feet with neat, precise steps, turning in place to face Miraz's side of the ring – a more difficult thing for a Centaur than many people realized, but Glenstorm made it look elegant. For a moment, Peter was taken back to the last tournament he had fought. That time, it had been Oreius standing in the same position, sword aloft and face calm, but stern.

A short, wooden, three-legged stool had been brought out, and Peter took a seat, staring at Miraz while Edmund set Rhindon down and began checking the fastenings on Peter's armor. If any of them were loose, or improperly fastened before, the walk up here might have caused them to come undone, and they would need to be rechecked. Across the way, one of the Telmarines was doing the same for the usurper.

Finished with his checks, Edmund didn't try to speak as he offered one of Peter's gauntlets, knowing his brother's mood would not be conducive to conversation of any kind at the moment. Peter raised his right hand and slid it into the gauntlet as Edmund held it out. He was grateful for Edmund's supportive presence as the second gauntlet was slid onto his left hand, followed by the shield that he had put down when he sat down.

The weight of his armor was comfortable and familiar. This particular suit of armor had seen many battles and carried him through each one in the first year that he had been High King. Peter had no doubt that it would see him through this battle too, especially given the care and attention that Edmund and Krisalyn had put into making sure it had been properly put on. This was the second suit of armor that he'd owned – the first had been the suit he'd worn at Beruna, which had been damaged in the fight in a few places, although it had done it's job in protecting him. The only place where the damage had actually been severe enough to not prevent a wound had been his right shoulder, which had been pierced by a sword wielded by the Witch. So after Beruna, the dwarven-smiths of Cair Paravel had taken it upon themselves to make new armor for both he and Edmund, since Edmund's armor had also been damaged beyond repair when the Witch had stabbed him.

Peter studied his opponent while Edmund adjusted the mail coif he wore over his blonde hair. Miraz was perhaps a foot taller than Peter, but most definitely outweighed him. On their own, neither of those facts were particularly problematic – after all, Peter had faced Giants and Ogres, both species of which were taller and heavier than he was. He'd trained daily with a Centaur who was also taller and heavier, so size alone wasn't enough to intimidate the High King of Narnia. What Peter did note was that despite the bulk around his midsection, Miraz's arms showed a great deal of muscle, and he seemed to be wearing his armor easily, which meant that he was probably stronger than he appeared – and Peter's greatest concern still lay in the fact that he was no longer in the peak physical condition he'd been in before they'd been sent back to England. Miraz was currently glaring at Peter, in a attempt to intimidate or unnerve him. However, Peter had been glared at, roared at, and threatened by Giants, Ogres, all manner of Fell Creatures, and even a few Calormen raiders – Miraz's best glare didn't even rate among the top ten most intimidating. It certainly didn't rate with the cold, perpetual sneer the White Witch had worn every time Peter had seen her.

Edmund touched his cheek, drawing his attention off of Miraz. Peter looked at his brother, seeing the fear in those dark brown orbs, although Edmund's voice was steady when he spoke. "Are you ready, Pete?"

Peter nodded and Edmund carefully placed Peter's helm on his head, fitting it over the collar and coif so as to provide extra protection to his neck. He left the visor up, and then finally stepped away. Peter was as ready as Krisalyn and Edmund could make him. Now it was on him to see this day through.

"Be careful, Peter," Edmund breathed.

"Let's settle this." Peter rose to his feet. "Ed?"

Edmund picked up Rhindon in its red leather sheath and offered the hilt to him. Peter reached out and wrapped his right hand around the hilt, feeling the grip mold perfectly to his hand. Perhaps, like Susan's bow and horn, and Lucy's cordial, Rhindon had some magic to it. It was the only way that Peter could explain how Rhindon had always remained the perfect weight and balance for him, even as his strength and stamina had increased over fifteen years of wielding this sword. Edmund had gone through several swords over the years, but Peter had only ever needed Rhindon. With a tug, he pulled the shining steel blade out of the sheath before turning to face Miraz.

They met in the middle of the ring and began cautiously moving from side to side, looking for an opening in the other's defenses. Peter didn't fail to notice that despite his bulk, Miraz was moving with a fluid ease in his stride.

"There is still time to surrender," Miraz said quietly.

Peter tightened his lips, but otherwise showed no reaction to the provoking comment. "Well feel free." There was no way he would surrender, not with the future of his family, his people, and Narnia herself on his shoulders.

Miraz shook his head. "How many more must die for the throne?"

"Just…one," Peter replied, reaching up with his right hand and lowering his face plate. He rocked back into a fighting stance, assessed his opponent's stance, and decided on an attack. Stepping forward, and to his right, he used a piece of tumbled stone as a stepping block, planting his foot, raising his sword, and then pushing off, all in one smooth motion. With a yell, he swung Rhindon down as he leapt, aiming for Miraz's head. This was where one of his strengths lay in combat, as Edmund and Oreius had pointed out. Although he _could_ stand his ground and exchange blows, he had been trained by Fauns, Centaurs, Dwarves, and assorted Beasts. Each Narnian race fought with their own style and level of aggressiveness, and Peter had learned to incorporate all of their moves into his own style. He knew more techniques than a traditional fighter and could change directions fluidly, swiftly, and without warning.

Miraz was quicker than Peter had anticipated however, and got his shield up to deflect the blow. Peter landed behind him, bending his knees and ankles to absorb the shock of impact. Even as he pulled Rhindon in and prepared to attack again, Miraz was spinning around and thrusting – not his sword, but his shield – into Peter's face.

* * *

_Whuff…whuff…whuff…_

Aislynn was trying to throttle down her fear as Destrier labored beneath them, his long strides driving steadily forward, even as his sweat-soaked mane whipped back into her face repeatedly. The stallion was giving everything he had, but he was beginning to tire. Although he was strong, he was carrying a double burden, where the Telmarine soldiers pursuing them were not.

They'd found a way out of the ravine, finally, which had eased their path somewhat, since they didn't have to dodge around the trees, but it was making it easier for the Telmarines to see them now, and impossible to lose them.

_Thump-thump…thump-thump…thump-thump…_

Aislynn glanced back and realized that their pursuers had gained on them. They were almost upon them now. In fact, one of them had spurred his horse forward, to try to overtake them.

"Aislynn!" Lucy cried. "They're on us!"

Aislynn closed her eyes for a moment against the tears that welled up as she realized what she would have to do. At least _one_ of them had to make it through safely, and of the two of them, the better choice was Lucy. She had failed to get her Aunt to Aslan safely, but perhaps she could still protect Lucy – and give her a chance. _I'm sorry, Mother. I did my best. But it looks like I won't be coming back._

Her mind made up, she yanked back on Destrier's reins, pulling the stallion up. "Whoa, boy!"

"What are you doing?" Lucy cried.

Destrier was slowing and Aislynn wheeled him to the side to avoid the horses racing up behind them. It was a narrow miss, but the lessons that she had had in riding from Bree, one of the Talking Horses who was a friend of Cor's, stood her in good stead as she avoided the Telmarine riders and circled Destrier back around so that he was facing in the direction that they had been going.

"Trust me! I'm going to try something." Aislynn called back, pulling Destrier – hot and blowing hard – to a full halt as the Telmarines turned their horses and came back to surround them. "Just be ready."

"Stop there!" one of the Telmarines ordered. The soldiers raised their crossbows as they pulled their horses to a stop. "Identify yourselves!"

Aislynn released Destrier's reins, signaling the stallion to stand with her knees as she raised her hands to shoulder height. "Do not shoot! We mean no harm!" She was grateful that her accent was of Archenland, not Narnia. She eyed their pursuers, counting eight in all. She swallowed nervously. Oreius had taught her self-defense and how to take on multiple opponents, but her skills had never been tested outside the training grounds in Anvard. She wasn't sure if she could take on eight opponents unless she could get the jump on them, and even then she didn't know if she could handle eight.

_Aslan, protect me please._ There was a good chance that her plan would end up getting her killed – but her father, uncle, and sisters were willing to put their lives on the line for their country. She could do no less. _Aslan, whatever happens, I am yours. If this day is to be my last, welcome me into your Country._

"Who are you?" the lead Telmarine growled.

_Time to see if everything I learned at Court pays off._ "I am Lady Aislynn of King Cor's Court at Anvard. I was sent here to serve as King Cor's ambassador to the Telmarine court," Aislynn told him, trying to project the aura of a frightened, yet haughty young woman of rank. Although subterfuge had _not_ been part of her "official" lessons, Aislynn had been raised in the Court of Anvard, and there was _always_ some intrigue or political maneuvering going on, and she had learned a great deal simply by observing the other courtiers and the various ambassadors.

"Who is she?" the man barked, indicating Lucy.

"My maid," Aislynn replied after a moment, somewhat dismissively, thankful that Lucy had left her crown at the How and only wore her hair pulled back slightly. "You must help us!" she demanded, exactly as a spoiled young woman would. "We were captured by the Narnians, the foul beasts." It went against her every impulse to refer to her people in that fashion, and she could feel Lucy tense against her, but she had to act and speak the way these men would expect of a noble woman.

The soldier gestured for the others to lower their weapons. "How did you get here?"

Aislynn fixed him with a cool look. "What does that matter?" she asked, haughtily.

The soldiers immediately raised their weapons again. "It matters because there are Narnian spies in the woods. I have no way of knowing you are not one, and no one would argue with me if I had my men shoot you where you stand," the soldier in charge said.

"We crossed the border about two weeks ago," Aislynn replied, casting a glare of aggravation in his direction. "One of the border guards was ordered to escort us to the Court, but when we stopped to camp for the night, the Narnians raided the camp, drugged or killed the guard, and took us prisoner. They accused us of being Telmarine spies and would not believe me when I told them I was merely the ambassador. They've been holding us all this time, forcing us to assist them in their battle preparations. But today, with the battle drawing so close, they were not watching us carefully. I managed to get free and reclaim my dagger," she indicated the dagger her mother had given her, which was still belted at her waist. "We stole a horse and snuck out one of the back tunnels. When you chased us, I believed it was because the Narnians had discovered our escape and were chasing us."

The soldier narrowed his gaze at her, but seemed to have no reason to disbelieve her at the moment. "Get down. Both of you." He waved to two of the others to dismount and confiscate their weapons.

Aislynn nodded and slowly dismounted, covertly slipping the reins into Lucy's hands as she noticed a gap between the horses straight ahead of Destrier. "Take the reins and hold on," Aislynn whispered softly. As her feet touched the ground, she shrugged the short bow that she had strung and carried under her cloak free, quietly thanking Oreius for his advice.

"_General, may I ask a few moments of your time?" Aislynn spotted the tall Centaur moving down the hall alone, and assumed that he had finished his discussion with her father._

"_Of course, Your Highness. What may I assist you with?"_

"_My mother told me that you could assist me in making the preparations for my journey with Queen Lucy to find Aslan. We must leave soon, and I wished to see if you had any advice for me."_

_Oreius nodded and studied her for a moment. Aislynn had already taken the time to change into the plainest of her riding gowns, this one made of dark brown wool with a divided skirt for ease of mounting and riding and no trim. She was wearing a sturdy pair of leather boots rather than court slippers, and had fastened her mother's dagger to a matching leather belt, and her brown wool hooded cloak._

"_Do you have any armor?" Oreius asked after a moment's silence while he considered her attire._

_Aislynn nodded. "Yes, in the room I've been sleeping in. Cor insisted that I bring a short leather hauberk to protect my chest."_

"_Wear it," Oreius ordered. "What weapons do you have?"_

"_My mother gave me this dagger. Do I need any other weapons?" Aislynn asked, curiously. "I thought the whole objective of our quest was to get through without drawing attention to ourselves."_

"_A sword would draw attention, especially if worn by a lady," Oreius agreed. "Come and we'll find a short bow and a quiver of arrows." He led the way through the tunnels towards the makeshift armory. Aislynn hurried to keep up with the long-legged Centaur as they wound their way through the caverns._

"_Princess, you are undertaking a dangerous mission. Once you mount your horse, __**do not stop or dismount**__ for anything save your horse coming up lame. Speed is going to be your ally in this mission, and you and Queen Lucy cannot run as fast as a horse. You must stay mounted as long as you can. Trust Aslan to find you before your horse tires."_

_Aislynn nodded. "What if we are seen by the Telmarines?"_

"_Ride. Ride with everything you have and try to lose them in the woods. The Telmarines fear the woods and will not venture too deeply, except in great numbers. From the rear passage, follow the stream that runs through the ravine as far as you can. The stream will feed into the Great River, which you can follow to the Dancing Lawn," Oreius told her as they reached the armory where the Narnians were getting their weapons and their instructions for the battle._

_He led her over to a rack of short bows and quivers of arrows. He picked up a bow and had her draw it in a clear area to test her pulling power. The first bow was too tightly strung, so he had her test several others until they found a bow that she could pull easily, yet was powerful enough to launch an arrow with incredible speed and penetration if necessary._

"_No, Your Highness," Oreius stopped her as she started to sling the bow over her shoulder, over her cloak. He reached over and removed her cloak, then took the bow and slipped it over her shoulder, before fastening the cloak back over the top of the bow. "Worn like this, no one will suspect you carry it. If you must draw it, simply shrug it free and into your hand in one smooth motion."_

"You too," the commanding Telmarine ordered Lucy, who had slid forward in the saddle as if she was merely trying to reach the stirrup leathers so she could dismount.

Aislynn pretended to reach up to help her down, then without warning slapped Destrier's flank as hard as she could. "Go!" Simultaneously she tore her quiver free of where it was hung on the saddle pommel.

Startled, Destrier snorted in alarm and bolted, with Lucy clinging on for dear life. "Aislynn!" she called back. The stallion shot through the gap left in the Telmarine horses, making them rear and shy and forcing the Telmarines to wrestle their heads down to get them under control.

"Ride, Lucy! Ride my Queen!" Aislynn yelled back, even as she whipped an arrow out of the quiver and nocked it to the string of her bow as she raised it. Taking aim, she fired, hitting one of the Telmarines whose horse hadn't been startled by the confusion and was turning to pursue the Valiant Queen.

The Telmarine fell from the saddle and hit the ground hard as his horse shied and careened towards two others. Aislynn had already seized another arrow and taken aim at a second Telmarine, who took the shot in his leg this time and also fell, overbalanced when he instinctively reached for the place where the pain was coming from.

"After her!" the commander yelled, and two of the soldiers turned their horses and shot after Destrier, back into the woods.

Aislynn was still moving. The Telmarines were beginning to organize after the initial chaos, but she still had time to string two more arrows and shoot them after the soldiers pursuing Lucy. One arrow missed, but the second hit one of the riders' horses and the horse bucked, tossing his rider to the ground, where he narrowly avoided being trampled by his frantic mount.

"Get her!" the commander yelled to the men who were still mounted, indicating Aislynn. The men got their horses under control and moved towards her, too close for bow work. But Aislynn had no intention of going down without a fight.

She dropped her bow and unsheathed her dagger. The blade was wickedly sharp and she lunged at the guard closest to her, who had dismounted so that she couldn't attack his horse. She brought the dagger down in a sweep, cutting across the top of his forearm and wrist. He cried out in pain and she used the backstroke of the attack to come back across his arm, cutting into his elbow. Most of the force was absorbed by his armor, but she managed to cut another deep gash into his arm.

She turned after her first attack and lunged at a second guard. A quick, short thrust allowed her to bury the dagger in his right shoulder, piercing the leather armor he was wearing in place of mail or steel plate. He reeled back, yelling in pain as she tore the dagger free.

Spinning again, she glared defiantly at the remaining soldiers. Of the eight who had been chasing them, five had been disabled or killed, and one had gotten away to pursue Lucy, which left two – the commander and one other. Although she had not expected to survive this encounter, her actions had taken the Telmarines completely off-guard and she had been able to eliminate them faster and more precisely than she had hoped. Now she was beginning to think – with only two opponents remaining – that she might be able to get out of this, and possibly ride in pursuit of Lucy, since the horses that had thrown their riders had stopped nearby.

Aislynn watched the two soldiers closely, waiting for them to attack her, and praying that with his lighter burden Destrier would make it through. _Aslan, put wings on his feet and give him the strength to see Lucy safely to you._

She was so intent on watching the mounted officers, she didn't notice the soldier whom she'd stabbed in the shoulder getting back to his feet and coming up behind her. When something impacted with the back of her head, blackness immediately filled her vision and she dropped to the leaf-strewn earth.

Despite the blackness, she tried desperately to hang on to consciousness. "Should we eliminate her?" she heard someone ask faintly.

"No. Take her to the encampment. His Majesty will deal with her later," a second voice said. "Go…other…don't…escape…" was the last thing she heard before the world faded away.

* * *

_Aslan's How…_

Hidden within the trees around the How, Cor kept his seeing glass trained on the duel as he waited for Caspian's signal. All around him, his men held their positions like the well-disciplined army they were. They were cheering the High King on silently, since they could not risk revealing their location. Of all of them, however, only Cor could actually see the duel. But he knew his men, and he knew that they all understood that what they were fighting for this day was the preservation of Narnia. Archenlanders they might be, but Narnia was a long-time ally, and the seat of Aslan's grace. These men served Aslan with their service to Cor's army, and they knew how important Narnia was to Aslan.

By now his twin, the Mice, and the rest of the men under his brother's command should be in position to begin quietly sabotaging the Telmarine war machines, if necessary. Cor didn't know exactly what his brother had in mind, but he knew Corin would do his best to fulfill his mission. Like the rest of the army, Corin was doing this for Aslan as much as for Narnia – but even more, he had been a friend to the Four ever since he was a small child. He would fight to his last breath for that friendship.

Cor turned his attention back to the duel and winced. Miraz was coming after King Peter like a bull, throwing his weight around rather than meeting Peter equally, man to man. The High King had taken multiple blows to his face and head from Miraz's shield already, and the duel had barely begun. Such a tactic was considered mildly underhanded, at least by the customs and traditions of honorable, formal combat such as this. Yet King Peter was returning every blow, not allowing the usurper to rattle him. Despite Miraz's fierceness, the High King was standing proud. Until today, Cor had only heard of Peter's battle prowess, but he'd never witnessed it for himself.

Frankly, if this was what the High King was capable of at the age of sixteen, how extraordinary must he have been at the height of his rule?

Cor hid a wince as Miraz swung his sword in a slash at Peter's armored legs. Peter dodged, but the sword still glanced off the dwarf-made steel greaves with a shockingly loud CLANG! Fortunately, the steel held up and the blow was only glancing, otherwise the High King might very well have had a chunk of flesh taken out of his leg.

But Peter wasn't giving Miraz time to react. As soon as the sword bounced off his legs, Peter dropped to one knee and thrust his sword upwards, at Miraz's heart, trying to come in underneath his opponent's guard and shield and end the match with a decisive blow.

Unfortunately, all the High King got for his efforts was another crack across the face from Miraz's shield. The High King's helm was the only thing that prevented the edge of the shield from slicing open his face, he was hit so hard.

King Peter fell to the ground, rolled a few feet away, and didn't move for a moment.

"Get up, Your Majesty! Get up!" Cor murmured.

* * *

_Oh Aslan, Pete! Get up!_

Edmund had to clench his teeth together to keep from screaming his brother's name. He fisted his hands at his side. "Get up!" he hissed through his tightly clenched teeth, feeling his heart leap up from his chest to lodge in his throat. His brother had taken some awful knock from Miraz's sword, but had still managed to strike back…but this time he wasn't moving, and Edmund had to wonder if that last blow had been enough to actually daze Peter or knock him unconscious.

_Peter, on your feet! You promised Krisalyn, Aislynn, Lucy, Susan, and me that you'd be coming back from this fight! Get up!_

Miraz had paused for a moment, surprised by his opponent's collapse, but he seemed to have recovered himself and was now moving towards Peter. It took all of Edmund's control not to order a volley of arrows at the usurper's heart, if it meant protecting his brother. But then, suddenly, Edmund felt a calm settle over him as he suddenly realized what Peter was doing.

There was no evidence to support the fact that Peter was conscious, as Edmund couldn't see his eyes or his face from the position he was lying in, but Edmund simply _knew_ what Peter was up to. It was actually one of Edmund's favorite tricks in single combat, but it _was_ a risky maneuver, so he didn't use it often.

Next to him, Glenstorm stomped one hoof as the only sign of his agitation and his own difficulty in racing to the High King's defense. Edmund didn't blame him – after all, Glenstorm didn't know Peter that well. Edmund couldn't have even said _how_ he knew what Peter was doing, he just knew…and he wondered for a moment if it was Aslan's doing – trying to reassure him that he was watching out for Peter and would protect him.

For all the weight that Peter gave to fighting with honor, fairness, and dignity – concepts that Oreius had drilled into their heads from the moment he had begun instructing them – the High King also understood that subtlety and misdirection were valid tactics as well, even in a duel of honor. Edmund had been the first to embrace what Lucy had called the "sneaky" tactics, mainly because of his smaller stature at the time he'd begun learning the sword. When his opponents constantly outweighed him, were taller than he was, and had a longer reach, Oreius had been challenged to find techniques that the younger King could use to his advantage.

After a few close shaves and narrow escapes that had been made possible only because of Edmund's "sneaky" attacks – stomping on an opponent's instep, knocking heads together, jabbing an elbow into the gut, for instance – even Peter had begun to see their value. Neither of them ever stooped to the level of "assassin's tactics", like concealing poison, or sneaking up behind an opponent to strangle them, but the use of unorthodox maneuvers, such as using one's whole body as a weapon, using unusual objects as weapons, or even a bit of playacting were part of both of their repertoire of techniques now.

And that was exactly what his brother was doing now, as Miraz continued to draw closer. No doubt that last shield blow _had_ rattled Peter, for it had been a vicious hit, but he was keeping his cool and trying to turn it to his advantage. Despite the calm certainty of what Peter was doing, Edmund couldn't keep himself from biting his lip with worry. _Come on Peter…_

Then he noticed Peter's hand was still clenched tightly around Rhindon's grip. Had Miraz been paying attention, he would have noticed it as well, and realized the High King was attempting to deceive him.

Miraz stood over Peter's (apparently) prone form, sword raised for the killing stroke. "And thus Narnia is mine, _High King_." With a cry of satisfaction, the usurper drove his sword down towards Peter's chest.

* * *

Peter's eyes, which he had closed to feign being dazed or unconscious, snapped open and he rolled away from the incoming blade. The force with which Miraz's sword came down was unchecked by Peter's body and instead impacted the stone. And since it had been a stabbing motion rather than a cut, as the tip struck the stone the force transferred back to Miraz, jamming his wrist in a way that would make itself known more and more as the fight continued.

Peter rolled away, and then rose to his knees, again putting himself in a position to come in under Miraz's guard, but instead he continued to rise until he was back on his feet. Miraz had recovered enough to cit at his head, but Rhindon intercepted the blade. Leaning in, so that he could look Miraz in the eye (and not so incidentally put painful pressure on Miraz's injured wrist) Peter hissed, "Narnia will never be yours. Not today, nor any day. This I swear _in Aslan's name_."

Miraz snarled and shoved back, forcing Peter away. Almost immediately he swung his shield at Peter's head again, but Peter ducked and got his own shield up to thwart the attack.

Peter backpedaled to give himself room, and then swung Rhindon full force. Miraz countered and they settled into a rhythm of blows and counters.

_**Clang…clang…clang…**_

Back and forth they went – Peter was trying to force a steady pace, to force Miraz to use the wrist he had jammed enough that the constant blows would make it ache and weaken the longer the fight went on. The more it hurt, the more the usurper would begin to feel it, and that would give Peter an opening to finish the duel. Assuming, of course, that Lucy, Aislynn, and Aslan didn't arrive first.

_**Clang…clang…clang…**_

_Thrust, parry, cut, dodge…_Each move was instinctual as Peter read his opponent, giving him a second to act or react in response. _Upswing, downswing, high block, shield block, spin, cut…_It was a dance – beautiful, intricate, and potentially lethal, but a dance nonetheless. Peter stared into his opponent's dark eyes – eyes that gleamed with anger and the first hints of madness, madness brought on by the lust for power and control. The usurper's mouth – what Peter could see anyway – was twisted into a feral grimace of hatred.

By contrast, Peter was calm. His anger at what Miraz had done was carefully locked away, and a cool façade had settled over him, allowing him to react and analyze. The time in this duel would come when he would need to unleash that anger and become Narnia's Sword, the honed and purified blade of Aslan's might.

But not now.

Now was the time to simply wear Miraz down. Then he would show Miraz what it meant to face Narnia's High King in battle.

Peter dodged another stoke of Miraz's sword, and the battle went on.

_**Clang…clang…clang…**_

* * *

_Behind the Telmarine lines…_

Corin peered out from the trees that were concealing his position. The first of the Telmarine war catapults was fifty feet away, manned by five men. Had it been only those five men, he would have already ordered his scouts to strike. But less than twenty feet away to the right was a second catapult, also manned by five. If these five went down the others would notice and raise the alert. And since there were eight of the large catapults in all, and another five spear-throwing ballistae, his mission was more difficult than he had hoped.

Ideally, he would have to take out every man assigned to the war machines simultaneously, then set the Mice to disabling each one in turn while he and his men guarded them. But even with the regiment his brother had sent – an extra thirty-five men – he still did not have enough. Corin frowned, frustrated. He had to think of a way to carry out his mission.

He turned his attention instead to the ballistae. With their wicked spears, they could prove to be a great danger to the gryphons, especially when the gryphons were burdened with the boulders and archers. The gryphons were extremely agile fliers and could dodge arrows with ease under normal situations, even with their burdens. But those ballista spears…

"Peepiceek," he breathed softly to the Mouse Reepicheep had placed in charge, "can your forces disable those ballistae without being seen? We cannot take out the guards first without causing an alert, but we can defend you if you are seen."

The Mouse – not so bold or flamboyant as Reepicheep, but still valiant – considered the task. "It would depend on if there are ropes and cord or metal and wood. If rope, it would take one Mouse per weapon. If wood and metal, it would take more," he replied in his softest voice, so that Corin had to strain to hear him.

"Will one of your Mice venture forth?" Corin asked.

"I shall go myself, Highness," Peepiceek responded.

"Aslan be with you," Corin whispered.

Peepiceek scurried down from the tree branch he'd been standing on. His dark brown fur blended in beautifully with the long grass, and he scuttled to the tree line, where he paused to study the situation.

There were fifty feet between the trees and the first ballista, but within that fifty feet were more than a dozen Telmarines and little cover. It would be a challenge, no doubt. Corin watched tensely as Peepiceek made his move. Darting towards the ballista, he took shelter near the feet of one of the Telmarines, careful to remain in the man's shadow as he walked closer to the ballista. When the man veered away, the Mouse moved towards a second Telmarine who was closer to his goal. In this fashion, without being seen, Peepiceek made his way to the ballista and slid beneath it to study its inner workings and hopefully disable it.

Corin had to admit that it was extraordinary how few people noticed a Mouse that was anywhere between a foot to sixteen inches high, even when it was standing at your feet. The Narnians and the Archenlanders knew to watch for the Mice, but even they could still miss seeing the valiant little Beasts from time to time. With all the Telmarines around, however, Corin would have expected at least _one_ of them to notice the Mouse. He was hoping that the ballistae used twisted ropes and cords for tension-firing the spears. If so, the Mice could gnaw or cut through them, thus disabling them and rendering them useless. He waited tensely for Peepiceek to return.

After what felt like a small eternity, he spotted the Mouse creeping out from under the ballista. He held his breath as the valiant Beast made his way back to where Corin was waiting. Yet again, he marveled that no one noticed the Mouse.

"The ballistae are armed with tightly twisted ropes, Highness," Peepiceek said quietly once he had scurried back up into the tree to perch on a branch near Corin's head. "One Mouse can cut most of the way through the ropes so that if the enemy tries to use them, the spears will jam when the ropes snap."

A fierce light came into Corin's eyes. "Gather your Mice and brief them, good Peepiceek. They're about to get their chance to do something that could turn the tide of this war."

* * *

"Are you certain that you are well, Majesty?"

"I'm fine, Tumnus," Krisalyn assured him, although it was only partially true. The dizziness and light-headedness had passed, thankfully, but they had been replaced by nausea born of the dark dread and worry for Peter's safety. She understood why he was fighting, but the sick feeling inside her made her wonder if she would see him alive again. She wanted to know how the duel was going, but she couldn't bring herself to go look. To hear that Peter had died would be horrible, but to _watch_ it happen would destroy her.

Resolutely she moved through the main chamber where half their forces were waiting to charge, to the anteroom where the healers were waiting for casualties. If the battle began, some of the Horses – mainly the older ones who were not as swift or nimble enough to fight – a few of Corin's scouts who had some healer-training, and three of the Fauns would be responsible for getting out to the field and bringing the wounded back inside the How for treatment. From there, she, Tumnus, and Cornelius would work with the healers to save as many lives as they possibly could.

Tumnus trailed her at a respectful distance as she reported to the healer she had been asked to assist, an elderly female Centaur named Tati. She sighed, somewhat annoyed with the Faun's hovering, although she knew that after thirty-four years of being a part of the Narnian Court she should be used to it. "Master Tumnus, I assure you that I am fine. Please, report to your place."

"I pledged High King Peter that I would stay with you, my Queen," the Faun replied, with an anxious tone in his voice as he reached up and grasped his stubby horns with his hands, as he often did when he was excited or anxious.

"I release you from your pledge Tumnus. Please, go to your duty station," Krisalyn told him gently. It took everything she had to hold her own anxiety and frustration in. Tumnus had served the Narnian royalty well over the years, and he was only trying to do what he had promised Peter he would do. The last thing she wanted was to snap at the Faun in anger.

Tumnus continued to look anxious and didn't leave. Taking a deep breath, Krisalyn reached out and touched his shoulder. "Tumnus, dear friend, everything will be fine, but everyone is needed at their assigned places. Please, go. Peter will not blame you for leaving to serve your fellow Narnians, and if he is angry, _I _will take his anger on myself, because I am the one asking you to leave."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Tumnus finally said, although he didn't sound particularly reassured. But he turned and trotted over to the healer he had been assigned to assist.

As soon as the Faun was out of sight and hearing, Krisalyn let out her breath in a slow sigh of relief. Much as she cared for Tumnus and valued his input as one of her advisors, at times he could be much too high-strung and anxious. With the general level of unease and worry she was already feeling for Peter, the last thing she needed was a high-strung Faun to deal with.

Tati was watching her closely when she turned back. "Your Majesty, you do not look well, if it is not presumptuous for me to say so."

"I am worried for the High King, that is all," Krisalyn replied.

Tati seemed skeptical, but only nodded her head. "As you say, Majesty."

Now all they could do was wait and pray that somehow the Telmarines would keep their promise if Peter won the duel. Krisalyn doubted that their enemies would be so honorable, but it never hurt to hope.

Just like she hoped, with a desperation that she could not deny, that Peter would return from the battle whole and hale.


	30. Chapter 29: Battle Rages

_Author's Note: *waves to loyal readers* Here's another chapter for you...with a couple of sneaky twists! I hope you enjoy! This chapter wasn't difficult to write, really, but some of the logistics of trying to explain Peter's duel were a little tricky, so I hope that my descriptions are vivid enough that you can imagine what's going on - I deviated from the movie-duel slightly, and tried to work in some elements from the book as well. Don't forget to leave me a review if you enjoyed this chapter - thanks to all of you, this story has reached 117 reviews! I am so shocked by that! Oh, and I am not a medical professional. I have no idea if my description of how to set a dislocated shoulder is correct. I've never had a broken bone or dislocated joint in my life...so...don't flame me?_

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: **_**Battle Rages**_

_Somewhere in the woods…_

Lucy glanced behind her, but didn't see anyone pursuing her. She hoped that Aislynn's wild strategy had been enough to give her time to escape, but also to give her time to find Aslan. Aslan would not allow Aislynn to be captured, after all – he couldn't allow the only living heir of his High King to be killed.

_Aslan, protect Aislynn. Do not let her be hurt,_ Lucy prayed as she urged Destrier on. She couldn't believe what Aislynn had done, sacrificing herself to buy Lucy time. As Queen, Lucy had seen many of her people offer their lives in defense of their country and their monarchs. It was always painful to know that the Narnians loved Aslan, their country, and their rulers so much that they were willing to die to protect them. After a battle, during their reign at least, Lucy and her siblings had made a point of holding a silent vigil for the fallen warriors of Narnia. It was a tradition that had begun right at the very beginning with Beruna.

_Lucy glanced away from the small bonfire that was about five feet away from where she stood with her siblings and stared around at the Narnians who were assembled on the beach below Cair Paravel. Other small fires burned along the beach and the Narnians were all silent, waiting for the first light of dawn. They had been out here all night, waiting in silence._

_In the immediate wake of the battle with the Witch at Beruna, the Narnians' joy had been intense and powerful. For over a hundred years they had been tyrannized. Entire generations of the Narnians had known nothing but the cold, never-ending winter. Now they were seeing flowers, grass, and sunshine. Their joy was understandable and contagious. Even more, their prophesized Kings and Queens had arrived and led them to victory, claiming the thrones that had been empty for almost two hundred years._

_After the coronation, however, although the joy was still there, the Narnians' grief over those who had died in the battle had set in. Aslan and Lucy had saved many from being stone or from injuries sustained in the fight, but they couldn't save all of them. As far as Lucy knew, there was no one who had fought in the battle who hadn't lost a friend or a family member._

_It had been Susan who had suggested an all-night vigil to honor those who had fallen in the battle, and those who had fought for so many years against the Witch, even if it had been fruitless. The Narnians had been very responsive to the idea and so they had gathered on the beach, looking out across the ocean to where the sun would soon be rising._

_Just before sunset they had assembled, they had drunk toasts to honor the fallen warriors, and then they had lit candles and bonfires while they waited through the night. Lucy had waited with her siblings, and just like they were, she was dressed all in black. The stars overhead formed constellations that she had never seen before, and all through the silent vigil she had watched them dance through the sky._

_A low crooning filled the air, starting suddenly. Lucy felt Peter reach out and take her hand, squeezing it gently, and she returned the squeeze. She glanced around and noticed that the Narnians had opened their mouths, and many had their heads raised slightly. The bonfires cast enough light that she could see their throats vibrating as they sang. There were no words, just long notes that echoed and reverberated through the still air._

_The sun began to show itself over the horizon, and the crooning melody coming from the Narnians was joined by the verses of the merfolk, who rose from the waves to greet the sun each morning. Their haunting voices blended with the various tones sung by the Narnians, causing a shiver to run down Lucy's spine. Despite that, however, it wasn't a sad melody, but a joyful one. Lucy glanced back at her siblings and could see they were feeling the same. Peter's blue eyes held a passionate, fierce gaze. Susan had tears running down her cheeks and Edmund looked distantly thoughtful as he watched the sun continue to rise._

Lucy had later learned from Oreius that the wordless song was an echo of the one that had been sung by Aslan when he sang Narnian into being a thousand years before their time. It was part of every Narnian's culture, sung in honor of the life that the Lion had breathed into them on that first dawn, remembered by all and shared with each generation. Like the silent vigil, the song had become a part of the ceremony to honor those who died in any battle fought for Narnia.

If the Narnians won this war, Lucy knew there would be another vigil for those who died fighting the Telmarines. Would Aslan's song of life be sung for Aislynn too? Would she now have to go to Peter and tell him that his daughter would be among the heroes for whom they were showing such respect and honor?

_No! No, I will not! Aislynn will be fine!_

Although she'd only known Aislynn for a few days, Lucy had already come to love her. She was family, of course, and Lucy cared deeply for her entire family – well, Aunt Alberta, Uncle Harold, and Cousin Eustace _might_ be an exception to that – but it was more than that. There was just something about Aislynn that charmed everyone who met her. Lucy had watched her assisting the Narnians in the preparations, and as much as she was willing to help them, they were equally willing to assist her, oftentimes without her needing to ask. She simply couldn't imagine not knowing her niece any longer. And if Aislynn _was_ killed, Peter would be devastated. Lucy had never forgotten how heartbroken her brother had been by the miscarriage of his first child – but to lose Aislynn after missing out on her entire life would be even worse for him, she suspected.

Shouts from behind her were enough to tell her that at least one of the Telmarines was still chasing her. She gave Destrier all the rein she could manage without dropping them completely. "Come on, Destrier! You can do it!"

The stallion was soaked with sweat that showed up as foamy patches on his dark coat like cresting ocean waves, his breath was heavy and labored from the exertion, and he was quite obviously tiring. For all of his strength and stamina, this wild run was taxing him to his utmost – and they were still far from the gorge and the Lawn. But he seemed to understand the urgency and the desperation in her voice, even though he was not a Talking Horse.

Destrier's ears flicked back, his neck stretched forward, accepting the extra rein, and miraculously his strides lengthened further as he drove himself forward. If she could say nothing else about Caspian's prized stallion, he had heart and would obviously run until he collapsed if his rider asked it of him.

A whistling noise cut the air behind her, and a moment later a crossbow bolt slammed into a tree beside her, just as Destrier raced past it. Lucy choked back the urge to scream, not wanting to alert any other patrols that might be in the woods thus rendering Aislynn's sacrifice moot, and bent as low as she could to make herself a smaller target. But her mind was screaming when her voice was not. _Aslan! Help me!_

* * *

_Aslan's How…_

_**Clang…clang…clang…**_

Edmund watched his brother closely as the duel continued. Peter was moving systematically now, rather than being impulsive and using every trick and technique he knew. His movements were still fluid, despite the rhythmic back and forth interplay between the combatants. It almost seemed as if Peter was trying to turn the fight into an endurance trial, rather than end it quickly as Edmund knew his brother was more than capable of doing.

As a strategy, it was a double-edge sword. Miraz was older and heavier than Peter, and the weight of his armor and the exertion of the fight _might_ cause him to tire first, leaving an opening for Peter to finish the fight. On the flip side, Peter might tire first, and if Miraz continued to throw his weight around, there was a chance that Peter would be seriously hurt since he couldn't match Miraz for pure strength the way he would have been able to had he been his older self still. If Peter took too many of those blows with all of Miraz's weight behind them, he would lose.

_**Clang…clang…clang…**_

Suddenly, Peter shifted his stance as he caught the edge of Miraz's sword with the flat of Rhindon. Edmund wasn't sure what had changed, but Peter unexpectedly went on the offensive, his strikes becoming more aggressive and precise, and less methodical than they had been only seconds ago. Of course, Edmund wasn't about to object – Peter had always been an aggressive fighter, having taken Oreius' words about being the attacker whenever possible to heart. Going on the attack would force Miraz to defend, and would limit the number of attacks that Miraz could throw at him, which would decrease the chances of Peter getting hit.

He watched as Peter ducked to the side to avoid a parried riposte from Miraz, pivoting on the balls of his feet in order to bring himself around behind Miraz in one smooth motion. Before the usurper could react, he lashed out with Rhindon and landed a slash across Miraz's shoulders. The angle at which Edmund was standing gave him a perfect view of the strike as Rhindon's keen edge sliced through the back of the leather hauberk Miraz was wearing. Unfortunately since Miraz was still moving forward to compensate from the missed blow he'd sent at Peter, Rhindon only grazed the leather and didn't bite deeply enough to draw blood. The impact, however, made Miraz cry out, frustrated.

The Narnians' cries redoubled in strength at that blow, and even Edmund couldn't help but cheer his brother on. He had been biting his lips as hard as he could up until this point to avoid calling out and distracting Peter, but that was a wonderful attack, and he had to call out in support this time. "Go Peter! Follow it up, quick!"

Miraz stumbled forward further, pushed slightly off-balance by Rhindon's impact on his back, and Peter pursued him doggedly. Now was the time to land the winning blow and end this combat before the High King tired too much. Peter tried another slash while Miraz's back was turned towards him, but somehow Miraz managed to spin and bring his shield up so that Rhindon glanced harmlessly off the wood and metal.

"Press him, Pete! Don't let up!" Edmund cried. "Keep him on the hop!"

It appeared that Peter intended to do exactly that, for he continued to push forward, swinging Rhindon with strength and precision. Miraz had recovered however, and was again using his height and longer reach to try to reclaim the advantage. For every attack made by Peter, Miraz was there to counter it, and occasionally push back. Several times he made Peter take a step back in order to rebalance himself after a countered attack. Edmund was beginning to get extremely nervous, and only became more so each time Peter was forced to make one of those little half-steps. His nerves were vibrating like harp strings, he was so tense, and for good reason.

Everyone, Centaur-trained as Peter was or not, had a weakness when it came to sword work, and Edmund was praying with a intensity that he hadn't felt in a long time that Miraz would not realize what Peter's was and exploit it. Although Peter was a gifted swordsman, and Rhindon was often an extension of his arm, he had one weakness that Edmund had often taken advantage of during their sparring matches. When Peter raised his shield to block an overhead strike, his stance shifted just enough that a powerful enough blow could cause him to overbalance and drop his guard long enough for a strike to impact his side or chest.

Fortunately, Oreius had quickly identified that weakness and taken pains to correct it with exercises and training drills that forced Peter to accept it and work past it and not allow it to interfere with his mastery of the sword. Over the years of their rule, it had all but disappeared as Peter's arm strength, balance, and stamina improved. But now Peter was back to his younger, less developed self, and Edmund was worried that Peter's old weakness would rear its ugly head again.

Unexpectedly, the combatants broke apart, both of them breathing heavily. The combat had been fierce up to this point, but Peter was holding his own against his taller, heavier, stronger opponent. However, as of yet there hadn't been a decisive blow landed on either side of the conflict. Nevertheless, Edmund was proud of his brother's showing. Miraz had come into this fight expecting to make an easy showing of it and eliminate Peter quickly, thus securing the Narnians' surrender and the throne forever. But Peter had proven to be more skilled than Miraz had expected, and Edmund had a suspicion that Miraz was rattled and uncertain if he could win the duel. And that brought some comfort to Edmund…if Miraz was rattled he would be easily distracted and might make a mistake.

Almost as soon as Edmund finished that thought, Miraz suddenly charged the High King, thrusting his blade with a cry at Peter's leg, and inadvertently giving Peter an opening. Peter brought his shield up in a sweeping motion, batting away Miraz's sword and forcing his arm to the outside of his body. Then, with a clear opening, he made a stab of his own.

The attack was swift. Because of where Edmund was standing (Peter was partially blocking his view) it appeared that Rhindon's tip had sunk into Miraz's arm, but he knew the usurper's mail would have prevented that. But then Peter shifted his stance and yanked Rhindon free, as Miraz yelled again and groped at his side, below the shoulder, and he realized that Peter had found the opening in the mail hauberk where there was no mail so the arm could slide through.

As Rhindon's tip emerged into the light, Edmund spotted a red gleam on the first two inches of the steel.

"First blood!" Caspian cried, apparently seeing the same thing from his more elevated position on his horse's back. "First blood to High King Peter!"

The Narnian cheers, howls, whistles, and roars were redoubled as the Prince's cry was picked up and passed along the Narnian lines. Although it was not a grievous or lethal wound, it _would_ slow Miraz down as the duel progressed and it brought Peter that much closer to victory. That of course, was good news for the Narnians.

Although he couldn't see Miraz's face through his helm, Edmund could read the usurper's stance. Miraz was panting, both from pain and anger. Blood was trickling slowly down the front and side of his armor. If the duel progressed long enough, Miraz would probably end up feeling light-headed or dizzy from the blood loss when combined with the exertion of the fight. Edmund knew that Miraz would take the wound as a grievous insult to his dignity, especially considering his confidence coming into the fight. It was going to get ugly from this point onward.

As if to prove that thought, Miraz suddenly threw himself at Peter, forcing the High King back as Peter brought his shield up to guard. Apparently, Miraz was using the pain to fuel his rage and his aggressiveness.

_Aslan, where are you? Please, hurry. Your High King fights in your name and he needs you now._

* * *

_Elsewhere…_

Sound was the first thing that she registered – the clanking of metal on metal, the sound of leather and chains rattling in the wind, and distant voices, too far away for her to clearly make out what was being said, but voices nonetheless. Immediately following that was smell – leather, sweat, the sweet perfume of flowers.

What had happened?

Aislynn's eyelids felt heavy as she slowly pried them open. The light, although dim, was enough to make her close them quickly again. Her hands felt numb, and dull pain raced through her head, arms, and legs. Her arms felt like they were twisted under her in a most unusual fashion. She opened her eyes again, slower this time, and tried to raise a hand to shield them, only to be stopped by a tug on her wrist.

Shaking her head to clear it, she winced at the lance of pain that went through her temples. As her vision adjusted to the dim light, she took stock of where she was.

She appeared to be in a makeshift tent, and through the open flap she could see Telmarine soldiers milling around. She suddenly remembered what had happened – riding with Lucy to find Aslan, trying to trick the patrol that had pursued them, attacking the soldiers to buy Lucy time to escape, and then nothing.

She tried again to move her arms, but couldn't. Twisting her head, she realized that her arms had been tied behind her back, and tethered both to her ankles and to a wooden post that had been driven deeply into the earth. The angle was awkward, and that was the reason for the throbbing pain in her arms and legs. The bindings were so tight that some of the circulation to her hands had been cut off, although it wasn't serious to cause permanent damage.

She hoped.

Aislynn shifted as much as her bindings allowed, trying to relieve some of the pain in her arms and legs, but found that it was useless. They had placed her lying on her side, and after quite a bit of squirming, she managed to lever herself up into a sitting position, awkwardly leaning against the post her arms were tied to.

Her movements attracted the attention of one of the Telmarine soldiers outside. He looked in at her, then turned and headed across the camp, disappearing among the other soldiers. Aislynn watched him until he mingled with the other soldiers. She was a prisoner, and now that she was awake, she knew what would come next. They would try to interrogate her, in order to find out what she knew of the Narnians' strategy.

Aislynn couldn't help but wonder if her choice had been worth it. Had Queen Lucy found Aslan yet? Was her father still in combat with Miraz, or was the duel over? She didn't think it could be, since the soldiers outside were far too calm…unless of course, this was just a smaller scout encampment and not the main bulk of the Telmarine army. But ultimately, she knew it had been worth it. Someone had to find Aslan, and Lucy had been the better choice. If Narnia's freedom meant sacrificing her own life, Aislynn wouldn't hesitate.

She was surprised at that thought, however. Up until a few days ago, she had believed that she was from Archenland. She'd had no idea that she was Narnian, yet in just the space of a few days, the Narnians had become _her_ people. Aislynn knew that she had now become invested in the survival and welfare of the Narnians – not just for her mother's and father's sake, but for her own. She genuinely cared about the Narnians. After all, she was their Princess and future Queen. It was not only her responsibility to worry about the Narnians and to care about them, but her privilege.

Footsteps approaching caught her attention and she looked up in time to see a Telmarine approaching her. He was tall, and wearing very fine armor that looked as if it had never been used before. Aislynn immediately recognized the type – it was parade armor, meant to show status and command, without appearing tarnished and well-used the way _real_ armor did after any number of battles. Cor and Corin both had sets that they wore on very formal occasions, although they did of course also have real armor that they wore when they were called out to the battlefield.

Like most of the Telmarines, this man – or perhaps more fitting to say lord, since only a lord could afford such a fine set of parade armor – had dark hair and eyes, and a deeply tanned complexion. Aislynn estimated his age to be in his late forties or early fifties. He was not portly, nor excessively slender, but he did exude an air of wealth and power, confirming Aislynn's theory that he was a Lord, mostly likely the one whose troops these were. The only way that Miraz could have had this many troops was if every Lord who had a compliment of the Telmarine army assigned to him had brought their troops together – but no Lord would give over field command of their troops. It was another status symbol. The Lords would be the first to run if their lives were threatened, but in the meantime they would bark orders and satisfy their own pride by being "in command".

"So…you're awake," the Lord said, staring down at her coldly. His voice was even, but there was a hint of a scornful sneer in it as well.

Aislynn had lived too long in Cor's Court to allow a Lord to intimidate her. She was a Princess of Narnia – but she was also a Lady of rank in Cor's highly political Court. She raised her chin to meet his gaze squarely, despite the fact that he was looming over her, instead of lowering it as he no doubt expected. "Obviously."

His gaze narrowed at her. "You will address me with the proper respect, woman."

"I am not one of your subjects to command," she replied.

His hand moved faster than she could prepare for it, backhanding her sharply enough to split her lip and tear a gash in her cheek as the elaborate rings he wore connected with her face. "Your life is in my hands, wench. With one word, I could take that life, and no one would question me."

Because of her bindings, Aislynn couldn't move to wipe the blood from her lip. She longed to spit it at his feet, but her mother had raised her to be a proper lady, and Krisalyn would be horrified if she ever found out that Aislynn had done such a thing. Instead, she awkwardly licked the blood from the corner of her lip, gagging slightly at the coppery taste. "I highly doubt that. I know for a fact that you are not the usurper Miraz, and I don't believe that you have that much power that Miraz would simply accept what you told him."

"You would be surprised, then, woman," he sneered. "Now, you will tell me who you are, what you were doing in the woods, and where your companion went when you sent her away."

Aislynn was relieved to hear that Lucy had apparently made it through safely. If she hadn't, this man wouldn't be looking for information about where she was going. But she had no intention of answering his questions.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," she replied coldly.

He seized her face in one large hand and squeezed it tightly, his nails digging into her torn cheek. "I know that you are lying, bitch. Tell me!" He released her, shoving her back so that her head banged on the wooden post that she was tied to.

The fear she had felt for Lucy suddenly returned, only this time it was aimed at herself. _This_ had definitely not been part of her plan. She had expected that either they would kill her, or she would succeed in killing them, stealing a horse, and catching up to Lucy. She had no idea what she should do or say, other than not telling him anything that he wanted to know.

_Improvise!_ she told herself. _It's just like being at Court and making inane small talk with the other courtiers. I can dissemble with the best of them!_

Something that Oreius had told her once, a long time ago when she was just beginning her training struck her. The tall Centaur had been trying to prove to her that taking the offensive was not only a valid tactic in a fight, but also served a purpose in a diplomatic situation.

"_Never allow your opponent the upper hand, or they'll take it and run away with it, and you'll be left floundering. If someone attacks you, physically or verbally, regain the advantage immediately."_

"_But how? I mean, I can see how you could turn a physical attack back on your attacker, but now does it work with words?" Aislynn asked, looking at her teacher._

"_If someone attacks you, turn it back on them the same way. Make them look foolish and shamed, and force them to prove their accusations, whatever it may be. If it is merely jealousy or spite that is provoking the attack, they won't be able to back up their claim and they'll end up looking ridiculous. Watch your mother when you're at Court with her," Oreius replied. "Your mother is a master of dissembling. She's respected because she never backs down – she forces people to give her respect by never giving in to their insults and attacks."_

Oreius had been right. Aislynn had spent a great deal of time watching her mother closely over the next few years, and as it turned out, the Centaur had been absolutely right. Her mother was a master of diplomatic small talk and the banal courtesies that were required in a Court like Cor's. She never raised her voice, but she knew exactly what level of inflection to put into each word to get her point across subtly and politely. Aislynn had never been able to understand where her mother had learned it, since she'd always thought that her mother had been raised on a farm near the Narnian border, until she had married Aislynn's father. Of course, now that she knew that her mother had been born and raised a Princess, trained to rule and dissemble, and had then become a Queen of Narnia…well, it made more sense.

Now it was time to see if she could imitate her mother well enough to survive this interrogation.

Aislynn raised her head, imperiously. "I am Lady Aislynn of Archenland, a member of King Cor's Court at Anvard. You will sorely regret treating me in this fashion, Telmarine dog. I will tell you nothing further."

"You will, or you will die," he leaned closer to her, his dark eyes boring into her. "You may be nobly born, or you may be a commoner off the street – it doesn't matter. What you are is a prisoner of war, a spy for the Narnian beasts and captured for killing my men."

"My King will have something to say about this outrage. I am not a spy, I am an ambassador for King Cor, and by holding me you are declaring war on Archenland. My Lord will not allow this act to go unanswered," she replied coldly. "It was your men who threatened and attacked me first."

Another backhanded slap tore her cheek open further, as well as cutting into the skin above her right eye, sending blood down into her vision. "Silence, traitor!" He loomed over her further. "You _will_ answer my questions."

Aislynn tried to blink her vision clear, but the cut was apparently bleeding quite freely. "I am not a traitor. My allegiance has never been with the Telmarines, thus I cannot betray them," she replied, keeping her voice cold, even though she wanted nothing more than to slap that sneer off his face. "You may as well give up, for I will not tell you anything. I would rather die than try to save my life by giving information to a worm like you, _my Lord_."

The Telmarine glared at her again, but he apparently saw the resolve in her face. "You will regret your decision. When King Miraz has finished exterminating the Narnian beasts, you'll be taken to him. Perhaps he'll be merciful." He turned and headed for the tent flap, leaving Aislynn kneeling on the ground. Just before he exited the tent, he glanced back over his shoulder. "But I would not count on it." Then he was gone.

Aislynn glared after him until she was sure he was gone, before she lowered her head and tipped it to the side, pressing her torn up cheek against the shoulder of her dress. She hissed at the pain as the coarse fabric rubbed against the cut, but she had to stop the bleeding, so she continued to press her shoulder into the cut.

_Aslan, my life is yours. If I am to die today, welcome me to your country_, she thought, blinking back tears at the thought. She trusted the great Lion, and knew that whatever happened, he would be there for her. But there was still so much that she had wanted to do with her life – marry, raise a family of her own, assume the Narnian throne now that she knew she was their Princess, and help to restore Narnia to another Golden Age like the one her father and the rest of her family had reigned in.

_Aslan…I don't want to die._ Tears began to trickle down her cheeks, the saltiness stinging the cut on her cheek and her split lip. _Please Aslan…save me._

* * *

_Aslan's How…_

Caspian was in awe. He had always believed himself to be a skilled swordsman – he had been trained by General Glozelle, after all, and the General was the best sword master in the Telmarine army – even though he had never fought in a pitched battle.

But High King Peter was so far beyond anything that Caspian had seen before. His every move was powerful and precise – each move flowed into the next. He could change direction nimbly, with no warning, or turn a defensive block into an offensive strike with ease, and still stand and simply send strikes in a pattern, taking it turn and turn again in the fight. Caspian knew that he could train for years and he wouldn't even come close to matching the High King's prowess with the sword. Truly, King Peter had been the best choice to fight his uncle. General Oreius had been right when he had said that the High King was the most accomplished fighter with the single sword.

When King Peter had drawn first blood, he had angered Miraz even more than the usurper had already been. Now Miraz was throwing himself at Peter, outrage in every strike and line. But Peter was standing firm, not allowing Miraz to rattle or intimidate him. Miraz might outweigh and outreach the High King, but it didn't matter, because King Peter was quite obviously the better trained of the two of them. At the moment, King Peter was losing his lighter weight and smaller frame to his advantage, dancing around Miraz, forcing the usurper to pursue him, thus forcing Miraz to expend more energy. The armor that the High King was wearing wasn't hampering his agility at all, and it was obviously beginning to frustrate Miraz.

Miraz suddenly swung at Peter's head, apparently aiming to separate it from the King's shoulders. Peter ducked just in time and the steel blade whistled through the air where his head had been. Just as Peter straightened, however, Miraz used the momentum he'd built up and came back with his shield in a vicious back-handed shield strike to Peter's face. This time the shield caught the edge of Peter's helm and tore it free to clatter on the ground and roll towards where Glenstorm was standing.

With the High King's face now visible, Caspian thought he saw a momentary look of panic as Miraz's sword came around a second time, again aiming for the High King's neck. Peter ducked again and actually stepped forward, even as his mail cowl fell back to rest against his neck, forcing Miraz to overcompensate for the missed attack. Before Miraz could adjust, Peter made a cut of his own and connected with Miraz's thigh, just above the knee where Miraz's mail had ridden up, leaving only the leggings to protect him. But the cloth was no match for Rhindon's keen edge and the blade left a deep, bloody gash in its wake. It seemed, at least to Caspian, that since King Peter had scored first blood, he was determined to keep it up and chip away at Miraz, taking him out piece by piece if necessary.

Miraz roared in pain at this newest injury. He faced Peter squarely as Peter backed off slightly and gained higher ground by stepping up onto a piece of the tumbled down wall. The two fighters stared each other down, each waiting for the other to make the next move.

Caspian frowned as he thought he saw his uncle glance towards where Glozelle and Sopespian stood, but it was hard to tell because of his uncle's face plate. He glanced over at the other two Telmarines himself. He had noticed that Glozelle was carrying a crossbow, but hadn't thought anything of it, since Sopespian had a sword. The Marshalls were required to be armed, in order to defend their fighter from any assassination attempts from the other side. Glenstorm had his swords, the Bear had his teeth and claws, and Edmund was armed with his twin swords.

Whatever was going on, Glozelle did nothing but stand there, his hands loose on the crossbow, and his finger not even close to the trigger. Sopespian just watched with mild disinterest. Caspian turned his attention back to the fight, as his uncle sliced at Peter's legs in retaliation. Peter dodged by pushing off the stone he was standing on, and literally somersaulting over the blade, landing on his back and sliding slightly, before he rolled to his hands and knees and regained his feet, in one fluid motion.

Despite the fact that he was limping, Miraz closed with Peter again, exchanged a few blows, and then kicked out and tripped Peter, knocking him onto his back. This time the High King's armor hindered him, as the weight of it overbalanced him and causing him to land with his arms spread out to his sides.

_Move, Your Majesty!_ Caspian thought desperately, even as his uncle closed in on the suddenly vulnerable High King.

* * *

Peter was trying to gather himself, but his armor and shield were weighing him down just enough to throw off his center of balance, and the awkward position he had landed in wasn't helping. Normally he would have been able to compensate for the extra weight, but the duel had gone on too long. He was tiring, and he was also struggling with his own stamina (or lack thereof).

Miraz was on top of him. Peter tightened his grip on Rhindon; prepared to use the blade to block the blow he knew was coming. His timing would have to be precise, or he would be dead. There were no second chances in a duel to the death. He braced himself, waiting for the blow.

Instead of bringing his sword down, however, it was Miraz's foot that came down, landing on his shield and pressing the edge toward the stone. Because the shield was slightly curved – to allow for a sword to glance off more easily – Peter's arm was torqued in a manner that nature and human physiology did not allow. A moment later, there was a sickening _pop_ in the shoulder joint, followed by a shooting stab of pain all through Peter's shoulder and arm.

"Aaah!" Peter screamed. He couldn't help it. The pain was intense, despite the fact that it was not unfamiliar. He'd dislocated his shoulder more than once during his reign. Any number of battles, training sessions, and even accidents caused by the weather or other unexpected variables could lead to injuries, after all.

Miraz's dark eyes were gleaming with satisfaction at finally getting Peter to cry out. He raised his sword, prepared to strike Peter down while he had him pinned. Desperately, Peter yanked his shield arm towards his body, ignoring the shooting pain that ran through his shoulder at the movement. Miraz's balance was already off because of the slight curve of the shield, and as Peter freed his arm, it threw the usurper's balance off even more. Hugging his arm close to his chest, Peter rolled away frantically, trying to get enough distance from Miraz so he could get to his feet.

However, now that he had Peter in a vulnerable position, Miraz was not about to let him escape. He limped after Peter, blood now running from his leg and his underarm. His sword was held in a ready position, and the sunlight glinted off the edge of the blade, a severe and dangerous threat if Peter couldn't manage to get up. There was only so long he could avoid Miraz while he was on the ground and Miraz on his feet. Peter continued to roll, choking back a scream each time his shoulder impacted the ground. He knew that he couldn't keep this up for long, his shoulder wouldn't tolerate the continued abuse, and the weight of his armor wasn't helping. Dwarf-made it might be, and extremely light considering how strong it was, but it was still metal and still had some weight to it. Finally, he made a desperate gamble, and rolled _toward_ Miraz, impacting his knees and bringing the usurper down as well.

While Miraz was down, Peter rolled one last time and managed to get to his feet, dropping into a fighting crouch, Rhindon raised. He tried to raise his shield as well, but the weight was too much for his injured shoulder, and his left arm was suddenly totally useless. Miraz still wasn't on his feet yet – his injured leg seemed to be causing him trouble.

"Get him, Peter!" Edmund's voice reached his ears. "Now's your chance!"

But Peter held back. His arm was paining him too much, and he needed a moment to rest and recoup his strength. His shield was essentially dead weight dragging his arm down. He needed time – he needed to find a way to call for a respite to get his arm reset, or he would be dead when Miraz attacked again. He could not both attack and defend with Rhindon indefinitely.

Miraz finally staggered to his feet and met Peter's gaze evenly. He saw the way that Peter couldn't hold his shield and a fierce light came into his eyes. He raised his sword and took a step forward, only to stumble as his leg buckled. He caught himself, but if it wasn't for the fact that Peter was holding back because of his arm, he could easily have been dead in that moment. Recovering his stance he eyed Peter again, saw the firm grip that Peter still had on Rhindon, and knew that injured arm or not, Peter was not about to surrender or give in easily – and with an injured leg, Peter knew that Miraz was the more vulnerable of the two of them.

"Does His Highness need a respite?" Miraz mocked Peter, even though it was obvious that Miraz needed it as much, if not more than Peter did.

Peter swallowed hard, trying to calm his heavy breaths so that he didn't sound desperate. "Five minutes?"

"Three!"

Peter watched Miraz carefully as they circled each other, heading for their own sidelines. He didn't trust Miraz not to try to stab him in the back if the opportunity presented itself. His arm was throbbing, and he hoped that Edmund could do something. If his shoulder was injured worse than a simple dislocation, Edmund might not be able to do anything for it except immobilize it – and if that was the case, Peter either would have to honorably resign – thus granting control of Narnia to Miraz – or he would have to fight with an injured shoulder, in which case he would probably die – and that would have the same effect as a surrender, at least for Narnia.

* * *

Edmund closed his eyes as he heard his brother's shoulder crack, and the scream that was torn from Peter's throat. He _hated_, absolutely _hated_ hearing or seeing his brother in pain. However, he knew he couldn't close his eyes to the fact that Peter was still fighting, and with that injury, he would need Edmund's help if he could manage to get Miraz to agree to a rest. He looked up in time to see Peter tug himself free from underneath Miraz's foot and begin frantically rolling towards his own side to try to get enough distance to regain his feet. Edmund could only clench his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palm as he watched Miraz pursue Peter across the fighting arena. He knew that the constant impact of the ground on his brother's shoulder could not be helping the injury, and he marveled at Peter's restraint in not screaming every time he was forced to roll onto his shoulder.

When Peter knocked Miraz off his feet and managed to get up, he released a little breath and relaxed a bit – at least until he saw the way Peter's shield hung limply at his side. He frowned deeply. _Come on, Peter…ask for a respite! It's not dishonorable, and Miraz needs one too!_ Fortunately, Miraz did broach the idea of a respite, and they both agreed.

As Peter cautiously edged past the limping Miraz, careful not to take his eyes off the usurper, Edmund turned and signaled to Caspian, who was still sitting nearby on his horse, waiting for instructions to start the charge. He beckoned to the Prince, silently asking him to come and help – Peter's arm would need to be looked at, and probably set. Glenstorm was too strong, and he and the Bear would be responsible for guarding their monarch until the respite was over, to keep Miraz's men from trying any assassin's tricks. Then, he cautiously stepped out and went to Peter's side, grasping the shield and lifting it enough to take some of the weight off of Peter's arm.

As the made it back to where Caspian and Glenstorm were waiting, Caspian took Rhindon from Peter and sheathed the blade. Edmund began fumbling with the straps that allowed Peter to carry the shield on his arm, looking for the buckles to release them. Usually Peter just slid his arm in and out of the straps – the leather was soft and well-used and his arm usually slid freely. But with Peter's shoulder injured, Edmund was not about to yank the shield free and jar Peter's shoulder further. The Narnians had fallen silent, no doubt worried about the High King after hearing his scream earlier.

Edmund was worried about his brother too. Peter's face was stark white from the pain, with the exception of two red blotches on his cheeks that were a result of the exertion he'd been through. "Peter, is it your arm or your shoulder?" He wanted to be sure where the problem was before he started trying to help his brother, not wanting to make the injury worse.

"Shoulder, I think," Peter ground out through gritted teeth. "Lucy and Aislynn?"

"No sign of them, yet," Caspian said quietly.

"They –" Peter broke off, gasping, as Edmund finally freed the shield and leaned it up against the stone. "They should have been back by now."

"They'll make it, Peter," Edmund soothed. He glanced back at their army. "Keep smiling, Pete, the Narnians know something's wrong."

Peter turned to face their lines and raised his uninjured arm above his head in a sign of victory, waving at the Narnians. He tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace as his injured shoulder was jarred again. Either way, it worked, because the Narnians immediately burst into cheers again.

"Sit down, Peter," Edmund urged his brother. "Caspian, help me get the plate off."

Peter sank down onto the little stool as Caspian handed him a rough wooden cup filled with salted cider. The Prince turned his attention to the pauldron and rerebrace as Edmund worked on removing the couter plate and vambrace from Peter's forearm. He sipped the cider while they worked, trying not to move – although he let out a fierce hiss when the pauldron caught on his tabard and jarred his shoulder again as Caspian tried to untangle it.

"Sorry," Caspian replied quickly, pulling the pauldron free.

"S'alright," Peter hissed, clenching his other hand around the cup as hard as he could.

"Easy, Peter," Edmund said as he removed the rest of the plate armor from his brother's arm. He gently brushed past Caspian and began probing the wounded joint with his fingers.

"I think it's dislocated. I felt it pop," Peter ground out as Edmund pressed a little harder. After a moment, Edmund nodded.

"It is. We'll need to set it – but we don't have time to take off the mail," Edmund confirmed. "This is going to hurt, Peter. Do you want something for the pain?"

"Just do it," Peter replied.

Edmund looked unhappy, but nodded. He knew what Peter was thinking – pain medication would make him drowsy or disoriented, and he couldn't go back into the duel that way. "All right. Caspian, I need you to kneel in front of Peter and brace him. When I tell you, start pushing his shoulders toward me," Edmund ordered.

"What about your sister's cordial?" Caspian asked, as he took the position that Edmund had asked, gently resting his hands on Peter's chest, just below his collarbone.

Edmund shook his head. "It can't relocate a bone. It could stop the swelling and inflammation in the joint, but –"

"No, Edmund. I'm going to finish this duel with honor," Peter said as firmly as he could.

Edmund sighed, frustrated by his brother's stubbornness, but nodded. "Hold on, Peter." He moved into position behind his brother and wrapped his hands around the abused joint. He looked at Caspian – making sure to stay out of his brother's line of sight – and mouthed 'on two', before he spoke. "On three Peter. One, two…" he pushed suddenly. Caspian was ready and pressed against Peter in the opposite direction at the same moment. It took only a moment's pressure before Edmund felt the joint snap back into place with a cracking noise.

"Aaah!" Peter cried, his face going stark white. He doubled over, and Caspian caught him, preventing him from falling on his face.

"It's over, Pete; take it easy for a moment. Miraz isn't ready to fight yet, either," Edmund soothed, glancing at the usurper, who was currently having the gash on his leg bound. He took the cup out of Peter's hand and refilled it with cool water before pressing it back into Peter's grip. "Drink this, Peter."

Caspian levered the High King back into a seated position, ready to catch him again as Peter regained control of himself and some of the color came back into his face as the pain eased. The High King blinked at both of them, before Edmund's gentle insistence caught up to him and he shakily raised the cup and took a few swallows of the water.

Edmund watched as his brother's color improved, before he cautiously rotated his shoulder, testing his range of motion. He raised his arm over his head, stretched it out to the side, and made several short, sharp movements that echoed the motions he would make when using his shield. Edmund didn't see anything wrong, but Peter would be the judge. "Did we set it properly?"

Peter nodded. "It's a little stiff, and it'll be sore until the inflammation goes down, but I can use it. It's a good thing it was my shield arm and not my sword hand, though."

"What's the verdict on Miraz, Peter?" Edmund asked as he reached for Peter's plate armor again. "Do you think you can beat him?"

"He's tough. Very tough," Peter said thoughtfully, taking another swallow of water. "His wounds will slow him down, but he's a lot better than I expected. It's really going to be too close to tell." He glanced up at Edmund. "What do you think happens at home if you die here?"

* * *

"What do you think happens at home if you die here?"

Caspian watched as Edmund went as white as his brother had been a moment ago. Surely the High King wasn't being fatalistic, was he? His uncle might be good, but from everything he'd seen thus far, Peter was better. After all, Peter had wounded Miraz three times – the wrist, the underarm, and then the gash to his leg – while Miraz had only managed to dislocate Peter's shield arm.

The High King glanced up at his brother while they waited for Miraz to return to the arena. It seemed as if Miraz's men were having difficulty binding the underarm wound without removing all of his armor. But Caspian saw the way the High King's blue eyes fastened on the Just King, and there was definitely a distance – a thoughtful one, but a distance nonetheless – in them.

"You know, Ed, you've always been there for me, and I've never really said anything."

"You don't have to Pete – you're my brother," the Just King replied, his voice thick.

"I'm serious, Ed. I wouldn't have made it through these last few months without you. I owe you so much, but I may not get the chance to make it up to –"

"Save it for later," Edmund interrupted harshly.

"Ed…"

"No, Peter. Later we'll talk. Miraz is ready, get back out there and end this."

The High King held his brother's gaze for a long moment. Caspian wasn't sure what he was looking for – reassurance, perhaps? Or some sign that his brother understood what he had been trying to say? Maybe just another silent promise that he would make it through the duel and they would get that chance to say what needed to be said? Whatever it was that the High King sought, he apparently found it, because he nodded as he held out his arm, once again covered with the plate armor. The Just King slipped his brother's shield back onto his arm, before offering him Rhindon again.

Caspian spotted Peter's helm lying nearby and bent down to pick it up. He offered it to the High King, but Peter shook his head as he stepped back into the center of the ruins. Miraz, having also refused his helm, was waiting in the center for him. As Peter approached, Miraz raised his eyes and met Caspian's gaze. Caspian stared back levelly, seeing the coldness in his uncle's gaze, as well as the ambition. All his life, Caspian had seen that look every time he had looked into his uncle's eyes. His uncle had made no secret of the fact that he wanted Caspian's throne, but until recently, Caspian had always believed it was just talk, born of the fruitless desires of an ambitious man who happened to have been the younger of two princes.

Of course, he had learned the hard way just how wrong that assumption had been.

Now, however, Caspian stared his uncle down. _You won't win, Uncle,_ he thought viciously. _If you harm the High King, there is __**nothing**__ that will protect you from my wrath, or save you from King Edmund, Queen Susan, or Queen Lucy._ Caspian could care less about doing the honorable thing at the moment. His uncle had murdered his father – he wouldn't let him murder Narnia's noble High King to fulfill his ambitions for greater power.

Perhaps Miraz saw some of what Caspian was thinking in his eyes, because the coldness suddenly changed to confusion and wariness. He held Caspian's gaze for another several seconds before he was forced to glance away.

Peter was waiting for him, and as soon as he saw that Miraz was ready, he raised Rhindon and saluted his opponent before settling into a ready stance. It was an honorable gesture, and Caspian wondered if his uncle realized just how honorable the High King was – to show such respect for one who had essentially stolen his throne. If he did, perhaps his uncle would also realize the futility of this duel.

As the two fighters began circling each other again, Caspian shifted his gaze back to the men who were supporting his uncle. General Glozelle was watching the duel closely. He held a crossbow in his hands, but his grip on the weapon was loose and his fingers nowhere near the trigger. Caspian had never been able to understand how Glozelle had fallen in with his uncle. Everything that he had thought he had known about the General had told him that Glozelle was an honorable man. How many times had Glozelle expressed the need for honor in his lessons with Caspian? How many times had Caspian seen Glozelle dressing another soldier down for doing something dishonorable or being disobedient? What hold did Miraz have over Glozelle? Was Glozelle only helping him because he felt that it was his duty? Or was there something more to it that Caspian had never known about?

Glozelle met Caspian's gaze, and unlike Miraz, his gaze was not cold, or ambitious. Instead they appeared tormented by something, as if Glozelle was torn between two different choices and didn't know what he should do. And Caspian was certain, in that moment, that Glozelle was still an honorable man. Whatever was making him follow Miraz, he was not happy about it, and he was trying to find a way to salvage his honor without betraying his duty to the army and to the Lord he currently served. Caspian wished he could do something to reassure the man, but right now, Glozelle was the enemy and it was impossible.

Perhaps, when this was over, if they all survived, King Edmund would have some ideas. After all, Edmund was known as the Just, so he must understand something about justice and the law?

Caspian's gaze left Glozelle and instead settled on Lord Sopespian. A chill ran down his spine as he met the other Lord's gaze and held it. Of all of the Lords who served on the Council, he trusted Sopespian the least. The cold scheming and arrogance in those dark brown eyes said everything. If it was possible, Sopespian wanted the throne even more than Miraz did – and Caspian knew suddenly that it was the other Lord who was the real threat. Ambition was one thing, but the scheming and the calculated cruelty that he saw was something else entirely. How could his uncle have missed it?

"Caspian, what's wrong?" Edmund asked, looking at him closely all of a sudden.

"This is going to get ugly, Your Majesty," Caspian said slowly. "Whatever happens in this duel with my uncle won't matter in the long run. I just wish I'd seen it earlier. Damn!"

Edmund frowned. "How so?"

"Lord Sopespian is the real threat," Caspian said quietly. "If King Peter wins, Sopespian will take command and order the attack."

"We expected that might be the case…" Edmund began quietly, but Caspian cut him off.

"This…everything that has happened since my cousin's birth…it's all been orchestrated by Sopespian. This duel doesn't matter. If my uncle loses, Sopespian will order the attack. If my uncle wins, my uncle will order everyone killed under the terms of the agreement you negotiated with the challenge. But I'll guarantee that within a year, my uncle will be dead by Sopespian's hand."

Edmund stared across the arena at Sopespian. His dark eyes studied the Telmarine Lord closely, before they darkened further with dislike, although the rest of his face remained calm. "He's one of those who were trying to provoke Miraz into accepting Peter's challenge."

"He's the most ambitious of the Lords of the Council," Caspian explained softly. "Several years ago there were more Lords on the Council who were loyal to my father and to me since I was the rightful heir. They helped to balance the more ambitious members of the Council, including Sopespian and my uncle. They disappeared about five years ago."

Edmund's face grew more thoughtful, but Caspian couldn't even begin to guess what he was thinking.

* * *

Edmund wondered why he hadn't noticed Sopespian during the challenge negotiation. He was the Just one, the one who could usually see betrayal the easiest of his siblings. He had noticed that Sopespian was trying to subtly goad Miraz into accepting the challenge, but he hadn't looked beyond that, so focused had he been on getting Miraz to accept it.

_How did I miss that? If Caspian's right, then Sopespian has been planning this for a very long time. He __**is**__ the greater threat, and he's one variable that we didn't account for when we were making our plans._

"Caspian…are there any other Lords who could prove to be a threat if Miraz and Sopespian were both eliminated?" Edmund asked.

Caspian thought about it for a moment. "In the long run, possibly, but if both my uncle and Sopespian were removed at the same time, they would probably immediately begin fighting among themselves for power. I suppose – although it would be a little unorthodox – my Aunt might assume power, but she would only do so as regent for my cousin."

"Unorthodox?" Edmund asked.

Caspian nodded. "Telmar has never had a ruling Queen, nor a female regent. Usually the highest ranking Lord of the Council is the one appointed regent."

Edmund thought about that. _Our ultimate goal is to eliminate Miraz and defeat the Telmarines to free Narnia…but now we also have to make sure that Sopespian is defeated. We cannot allow him to live, or Narnia will be doomed in the long run._

Unfortunately, there was no time to send for a messenger to relay the new plan to the rest of the army and their allies. Edmund was going to have to think fast. After a moment, he had an idea. Turning to Caspian, he indicated the dagger at the Prince's waist. "May I see your dagger?"

Caspian appeared puzzled, but unsheathed the short blade and handed it to him, hilt first. "Surely you're not going to assassinate Lord Sopespian here and now?'

"Of course not," Edmund assured him, taking the blade. He glanced up at the sky, judging the angle of the sun. He was going to have to be careful not to distract Peter with this plan. His brother's life was still important after all.

He stepped back a few paces, but was careful to continue watching Peter, so as not to alert the Telmarines that something was up. He raised Caspian's dagger to shoulder height, as if he was studying it. He hoped that Susan, Corin, and Cor were paying attention to him as he allowed the light to play off the blade, continually turning it back and forth, admiring the steel.

_Come on…get the message!_ Edmund thought, praying that his friends and family were watching. Everything could ultimately depend on this.


	31. Chapter 30: On the Edge

_Author's Note: Whew! *pants tiredly* This chapter is finally finished! It completely kicked my butt. Twenty-seven pages! I think this chapter has become the longest of the story. I was trying so hard not to do this, I really hadn't wanted the duel to take up three chapters of this story, but it was the only way that it wanted to work out! But ultimately, I am VERY pleased with it. I think it is some of the best writing that I've done in a long time, and given the trouble this one gave me, I think I'm allowed to beat my own drum a bit. You may want to make sure that all of the tools and heavy objects are locked away before you read this chapter though. I cannot claim responsibility for any damaged computers after you read this chapter. Have pity on me…I'm just a poor substitute teacher, after all!_

_Thanks to __**Quathis, doggirlyn, Lauren, Victoria Alatamir Wan, **__and__** WiseQueen**__ for your reviews. Thanks to you, we're almost to 130 reviews! I'd love to try for 200 ultimately, and with several more chapters to go, I'm starting to think that goal might be within reach._

_Now…on with the story!_

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter Thirty: On the Edge**_

It had taken all of Susan's willpower to allow Peter to fight the duel with Miraz. It didn't matter that her older brother was an accomplished swordsman – practically a sword master himself, in point of fact – with years of battles and tournaments behind him. He was still her brother, and all she wanted was for him to come out alive.

Although Susan was a skilled archer and had frequently picked up her bow in defense of Narnia or the lives of her siblings, she hated fighting. She had always believed that a diplomatic solution could be found to any problem – after all, she was the Gentle Queen. It was her duty to try to find peace _first_, before her brothers sought the way of the sword to solve a problem. Out of everything that had happened since their return, Susan felt like they hadn't tried hard enough to pursue a diplomatic solution to the conflict. She understood why her brothers had decided that it would be necessary to fight to reclaim Narnia – but from what she understood of the last twenty-five years, _no one_ had taken the time to _try_ and negotiate peacefully. It was true that Narnia was a small land, but there was plenty of room for the Telmarines. If a peaceful solution had been tried in the first place, her brother might not be out there fighting for his life now.

Her hand tightened on her bow as she watched her brother being repeatedly struck around the face by Miraz's shield. But when he was knocked to the ground and his shield stomped on, injuring his arm enough to make him scream, it took everything she had to hold her position on the upper levels of the How. She wanted to race down to the lists to her brother's side, but she couldn't. Peter and Edmund had charged her to lead the archers – and she was a Queen. She knew her duty was here. Edmund was perfectly capable of tending to Peter's injury and she would only be in the way.

Trumpkin peered down at the Narnian lists. "The King seems well enough, Majesty. King Edmund and Prince Caspian are taking care of him."

Susan only nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak as she maintained her silent serenity with an effort. Sometimes she didn't know how Lucy managed. Although she was called Narnia's Valiant Queen, Lucy usually waited behind the battle lines with the healers, because Peter and Edmund had not wanted their youngest sister to lose her innocence or her gaiety for life by the sight of blood and death. As a result, quite often she had no idea if Peter or Edmund would be brought in, wounded or near death. But somehow, Lucy always remained calm and poised. The sight of blood didn't seem to bother her, even if it belonged to her brothers. Susan honestly didn't understand how she did it.

On the battlefield, she could put her fear and all of her emotions aside and simply choose targets one after another. But after the battle, she usually had to flee, to find a place that was private where she could be violently ill. It took hours, sometimes days for her to feel clean, even if she had no blood on her at all. And seeing Edmund or Peter injured always petrified her, freezing her heart and her mind so thoroughly that she couldn't think or feel anything except horror.

But she was a Queen, and her brothers were depending on her. She would do her duty; it didn't matter how personally horrifying she found the idea of war. Besides, there was another reason she had been positioned up here with the archers. The arena – and the Telmarine side – was just within normal range for a short bow like hers. At the extreme edge of what an archer could reasonably be expected to hit was the area of the field that the tunnels inside the How ran under – the ones they were hoping to use to ambush the enemy's cavalry. But Susan's bow was magical, and as a result, had a greater range than most bows of its size and power. Susan had found over the years that if she could see a target clearly and wanted it enough, she could generally hit it thanks to the magic of her bow. And since neither Peter nor Edmund trusted the Telmarines, Susan had been put in an elevated position where she could clearly see the entire area directly in front of the How and the ruins. If the Telmarines tried _anything_ to sabotage Peter's chances in the duel, Susan would be able to do something about it.

Peter stepped back up to the fight as the respite ended, pausing long enough to acknowledge the readiness of his opponent with a quick, respectful salute – and Susan's heart crawled up to lodge in her throat, and her mouth went dry with dread. "Be safe, Peter," she whispered.

She watched as Peter and Miraz circled each other, looking for an opening in the other's defenses. Peter was holding his shield up again; ready to make good use of it – although his arm was probably sore and would likely be a little weaker. Miraz was limping slightly, but it didn't appear to be affecting him too much as he swung at Peter's legs without bothering to return the salute Peter had given him.

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty? Queen Susan?"

Trumpkin's voice distracted her and she glanced down at him. "What is it, Trumpkin?"

"Your brother."

Susan frowned. "I know what Peter is doing. I was watching him."

"Not the High King, Majesty. King Edmund." The Red Dwarf indicated Edmund, who had stepped away from the lists slightly and was holding something – a dagger, Susan realized after a moment – and turning it oddly, as if he was admiring it.

Susan frowned deeply as she watched her younger brother. "What on earth?"

The sunlight kept reflecting off the dagger into her eyes as she watched Edmund. She blinked the spots away from her vision, trying to figure out what he was up to.

"What is King Edmund doing?" Trumpkin wondered softly.

"I'm not sure. I've never –" Susan cut herself off abruptly, as the light flashed in a distinct pattern she recognized. "Oh, Edmund!" She turned to one of the archers standing behind her. "Fetch me parchment and a quill, immediately!"

The archer snapped to attention before rushing inside the How. Susan turned back to watch her brother, in time to see him lower the dagger. "No! Oh, Ed, repeat it!"

"Queen Susan?" Trumpkin was peering up at her.

"He was sending us a message. I didn't realize it at first, because he was using an old code that we used to use – but we hadn't used it for almost a decade before we left," Susan murmured as the archer returned with the items that she had requested. "Come on, Edmund, repeat the message!"

She watched tensely and was rewarded a few moments later when Edmund began idly turning the dagger in his hand; although this time he didn't raise it as high, so as not to draw attention to himself.

"What does he say?" Trumpkin asked.

Susan scribbled frantically, trying to remember the code. They hadn't used it for almost eight years before they left, and she was a little rusty in translating it.

_**Danger….threat not…**__oh, what is that word?...__**Beware….betrayal…S…o…p…e…s…**__ Edmund, slow down! __**Must…eliminate….at…all…**_

Edmund handed the dagger back to Caspian while Susan tried to remember what the final word he had used was. She was frustrated with her lack of knowledge of the code – it had mostly been used by Peter and Edmund to coordinate ambushes on the battlefield, and she had never had much practice with it to begin with. They had tried to keep it simple, but it had never been easy for her. She scanned what she had come up with, reading the message to herself.

"Your Majesty?" Trumpkin asked as Susan read the message over and over.

_Danger. True threat not from Miraz. Beware betrayal from Lord Sopespian. Must eliminate at all costs._

Trumpkin peered at the parchment as she lowered it to stare down at her brother, who was again watching Peter as if nothing had happened. "Lord Sopespian?" The dwarf scowled. "Who is Lord Sopespian?"

"I wish I knew," Susan replied, "but Edmund wouldn't have sent this unless it was urgent."

* * *

All his life, he had believed in a simple fact – act with honor, as a true soldier should. On the surface, this was a simple command – be respectful, follow orders, and go beyond what was expected. But in reality, the idea of honor was a murky morass, filled with pitfalls that the unwary could not avoid. And somehow, everything had gone horribly wrong.

It had been the proudest day of his life when King Caspian the Ninth had promoted him to General. He had been young, but the King had recognized that he had a talent for tactics and leadership, as well as always carrying himself with honor and dignity. It had been a hefty responsibility, but he felt in those first few years that everything had gone reasonably well, and that he had done more than was expected for someone of his age and new rank.

Then King Caspian had died in his sleep, leaving behind his infant son to be raised by his brother Miraz. Even for a few years after that tragic event, things had been fine. He had noticed a few odd orders from the Lord Protector, but he had obeyed as was his duty. It was only a few years ago – when seven of the Council's Lords disappeared – that things became unusual. Miraz had begun issuing orders that were progressively more tyrannical, especially as Caspian got older and grew closer to claiming the throne.

Somehow along the way, he had lost some of his honor, and he knew it. Even a year ago, he would never have obeyed the order to kill the Prince while he slept. He would never have killed three of his men for failing to stop the Narnians from stealing weapons and armor. He honestly didn't know what he was becoming or at what point he had begun to change.

And now Miraz had ordered him to shoot the boy King he was dueling if it looked like he might lose. Glozelle had had every intention of following that order – in fact, he had almost raised the crossbow when the boy had drawn first blood – but something had stopped him before he could. There was something about the boy with the golden hair – nobility, or pride perhaps – that spoke to the truth of his claim of being the High King of Narnia. There was authority in the way he carried himself, an ease of acceptance that told Glozelle that this boy was not simply putting on an act. Even after Miraz had injured his arm – dislocation was Glozelle's guess – the boy didn't cave.

He had been thinking a great deal about if he had made the right choices in his life ever since he had killed those three men at the Ford, and he was slowly coming to the conclusion that he had lost his honor by serving a murderous usurper. He knew nothing about the High King who fought so boldly – but Glozelle almost found himself wishing that he served under the High King, despite the bestial nature of the Narnians he commanded.

His gaze shifted to study the dark-haired boy who had also claimed to be Narnia's King. _Edmund the Just, he called himself_, Glozelle remembered. _With a title like that, surely he must be virtuous and honorable indeed._

Of course, history often proved to give rulers undeserved titles, not to mention that some rulers took those titles themselves in an effort to get history to portray them well. But again, something told him that wasn't the case here. He had watched the boy during the challenge negotiations, as his duty demanded – and he had been very impressed by how the Just King had handled himself. He had taken control of the negotiations, and addressed the situation with a calm poise that Glozelle would not have expected to see in someone his age. He had glanced at the boy once or twice before the respite, and the boy had had a serene expression on his face – but his dark eyes had been full of worry. And if Glozelle recalled correctly, the two Kings were brothers. So the younger King had an excuse for his concern.

He watched as the High King stepped out into the middle of the ruins again and saluted Miraz with his sword before they began circling again. It was an honorable gesture, especially to the man who might very well kill him – and Miraz did not reciprocate it.

_I'm serving the wrong King – now I must serve my people and do what is best for them. No matter what it costs me._

_

* * *

_

_Behind Telmarine lines…_

Corin watched intently as the last of the Mice slipped back to their hiding place among the trees. They had successfully managed to disable the ballistae all down the enemy lines, but the catapults were still functioning and could do a great deal of damage if they were used. He had to find a way to take out those siege engines!

_Aslan, what am I missing? This cannot be an impossible mission!_ Corin thought to himself, frustrated by his inability to come up with a strategy for taking out the catapults that wouldn't get all of his men killed. The Narnian Kings and his own brother were counting on him to accomplish this.

The only bit of luck they had thus far in dealing with the rock throwers was that a Robin on its way to the How had spotted them from the air and flown down to see what was going on. At Corin's request, it had flown out to perch on one of the catapults, unnoticed, and returned with information about how the device was put together. The good news was that if they could find a way to get to the siege engines undetected, the Mice would be able to sabotage the weapons easily. The bad news? They couldn't get to the weapons undetected.

"Your Highness?" One of his scouts had slipped up beside him and was waiting for the Prince to acknowledge him.

Corin nodded, not taking his eyes off of the closest catapult. "What is it Captain?" he asked softly.

"I had a thought about those catapults, sir," the scout continued. "There are so many soldiers walking around finalizing preparations…if we ambushed a few of them, quietly, we could take their places and be ready to sabotage the engines when the battle starts."

"Swap armor, you mean?" Corin asked, to clarify. When the Captain nodded, Corin considered it. "We'd need to take eight men out, from different areas along the line to avoid suspicion…but it might just work. Perhaps the Mice would even consent to be carried over to the catapults to begin sabotaging them while the men stand guard."

Peepiceek overheard Corin's muttered thought, and scrambled over from the far side of the tree Corin was standing beside. "My Mice and I are yours to command, Your Highness. We fight for Narnia and we will do whatever it takes."

Corin nodded. "All right Captain. We'll try it. Start making the arrangements and dividing your scouts. The ambushes must be quick, clean, and _silent_. You have permission to shoot to kill."

The scout saluted. "Yes, sir."

* * *

_**Clang!**_

Peter caught Miraz's sword on his shield, feeling the impact all down his arm, but he held firm despite the dull pain that radiated from his shoulder. If he survived this fight, his arm would probably be in agony, but for the moment he had to push it aside and not allow the pain to distract him. The duel was going on too long, and Peter was tired of playing games with Miraz. He had bought Lucy and Aislynn as much time as he safely could without putting his own life at risk.

Shoving hard, he forced Miraz back. The man's injured leg was doing him no favors, and Peter – despite his smaller stature and lighter weight – was able to force the usurper to take an awkward, off-balance step backward. Miraz's leg started to buckle, Peter was pleased to note, and he was forced to pull back further to keep from falling.

Peter continued to press forward, forcing Miraz further and further back. He had the advantage now, and he intended to keep it and end this fight for good. He soon had Miraz pressed back towards the edge of the ruins. Hefting Rhindon, he swung, cutting towards chest. As the murderer brought his shield around to block, Peter allowed Rhindon to bounce harmlessly off, even as he shifted his grip. Using the momentum he'd built up, he swung an overhand blow towards Miraz's head. The air actually whistled at the speed with which Rhindon descended, but Miraz caught the blade with his own. Peter didn't even hesitate as he turned the recoil into a backhanded slice that cut low on Miraz's torso.

But again, Miraz countered the strike, forcing Rhindon wide, away from his body and leaving himself an opening, which he took. But instead of stabbing or cutting with his own blade, he swung his shield viciously at Peter's sword arm with the edge leading. Peter was caught in an awkward position – Miraz was inside his guard and he couldn't prevent the edge of Miraz's shield from digging into the inside of his wrist. Reflexively, as his hand went suddenly numb as Miraz connected with a pressure point, his grip on Rhindon's hilt loosened.

Rhindon clattered to the stone at his feet, but Peter couldn't take the opportunity to pick it up as Miraz suddenly drove forward, using his greater weight like a battering ram. Peter stumbled backward several steps, before he managed to get his shield between them again.

* * *

Edmund bit his lip hard as he watched Miraz disarm his brother and force Peter back with his weight alone. For a moment there, he'd thought that Peter had had Miraz in a position where he could end it, but yet again Miraz had regained the upper hand.

Miraz drove Peter back until it was Peter, unarmed, who had his back pressed to the stone. Peter still had his shield, but against both a sword and another shield it would be of precious little use. But Edmund saw that Peter was not about to give in – as Miraz rained blow after blow down upon him, Peter countered each one, using his free arm to brace the shield from behind so that his injured arm wasn't taking the brunt of each blow.

Caspian still stood by his side and his face was white as he watched the barrage that his uncle was laying on Narnia's High King. "Your Majesty, you've seen more of these combats than I. Is there any chance now?"

Without his sword, pinned between his opponent and a wall…"Precious little," Edmund ground out, wishing he could deny it, even though it seemed to be the truth. "I suppose he might _just_ do it. With luck."

"Why did I suggest this?" Caspian whispered.

Edmund shook his head. "If it was not this duel, we would already be in battle. Peter knew the risks, Caspian. He – ah!"

Miraz had finally gotten past Peter's shield and landed a blow on Peter's side, knocking Peter off-balance and sending him stumbling to one knee. This time, Peter was not faking, Edmund knew.

"Aslan, no!" Edmund cried, unable to help it as the words burst from his lips.

Miraz was already making his next attack. His blade sliced down, aiming to separate Peter's head from his shoulders.

"Peter!" Edmund screamed, sure he was about to watch his brother die.

But then, miraculously, Peter lunged forward with his shield, driving it into Miraz's gut and knocking him off-balance just enough so that instead of connecting with his head or neck, the blade glanced off his right shoulder, the Dwarf-plate again proving its worth as it did not break. Even as Miraz's arm came down, Pete was ready. He seized his opponent's arm at the exact moment that Miraz's sword _clanged_ off his pauldron, yanking him forward and further off-balance and literally using Miraz as a ladder to pull himself back to his feet.

Edmund couldn't believe what he had just witnessed – and he knew how resourceful his brother could be in battle, especially when his life and the lives of those he cared about were on the line. "Go Peter!" Now if he could only convince his heart that his brother knew what he was doing…

Miraz was angry now – more so than he had been. Peter was more agile than he had expected, and he was growing frustrated by Peter's ability to slip out of situations where Miraz could have scored the winning blow. Edmund knew that it was just further evidence that Aslan was protecting Peter. Yes, Peter was a brilliant swordsman, but he couldn't do all of this on his own. Aslan was guarding his chosen High King by giving him the skills and the reactions he needed – and Edmund had never been more thankful for that fact than he was at this moment.

Peter was back on his feet, but he hadn't had a chance to release Miraz's arm before the usurper was moving. Using the grip that Peter had on his arm, he whipped around and flung Peter into the wall, face first. Peter crashed into the wall before he stumbled back, looking dazed. A small cut had opened on his cheek where he had connected with the rough stone and was oozing blood. He shook his head, but Miraz was still on the offensive. Grabbing the back of Peter's head by his blonde hair, Miraz forced Peter's head down, bringing his knee up to impact with Peter's face at the same time.

There was a _crunch_ and for a moment Edmund wondered if the blow had broken Peter's nose. He couldn't see Peter's face at the moment, and he was very concerned about his brother. How much more punishment could Peter take?

Before Peter could recover from the double blow, Miraz – who seemed determined to not only defeat Peter, but to completely destroy him – spun, still holding the back of Peter's head, and flung him forward, towards a pile of tumbled down rubble that littered the edge of the fighting arena. Dazed, Peter couldn't stop his forward momentum, and landed sprawled on top of the stones on his stomach. After a moment, he slowly rolled off and tumbled to the ground.

He lay there for a moment before he slowly pushed himself up to his hands and knees, even as Miraz stalked closer to him. Just before the usurper would have been on top of him, he forced himself back to his feet. He faced his opponent, even though he still did not have his sword, which was lying on the ground a few feet away. He raised his shield again and began blocking the blows Miraz sent at him, slowly edging to the right to try to put himself in a position where he could seize Rhindon. Edmund could tell that Peter was allowing Miraz to drive him in the direction he wanted to go until his sword was just inches from his right foot.

Then Peter struck back. As Miraz swung at him again, he ducked beneath the blade, pressing forward until he was inside Miraz's guard. Rising sharply, his right hand came up fisted and his armored gauntlet crashed into Miraz's chin, staggering him. As Miraz stumbled back a pace, Peter turned, dove for his sword and seized it, and rolled back to his feet in one smooth motion.

But Miraz had recovered, even though it was _his_ lip that was now bleeding where Peter's gauntlet had split it. He lunged forward, leading with his shield, and literally grabbed Peter around the waist, lifting him off his feet. He flipped Peter over his back to land on the pile of rubble again, this time on his back. Peter grunted, and Edmund resisted the urge to curse, praying that his brother's armor had protected him from a broken back.

With an effort, Peter shoved Miraz back, hooking one of his feet around Miraz's uninjured leg and tripping Miraz. As Miraz went down, Peter rolled off the debris, landing face down again, where he lay for a moment, obviously trying to catch his breath while Miraz regained his feet.

"Peter! Get up!" a voice with a light Archenland accent suddenly called from behind Edmund.

Edmund whipped his head around and stared. "Krisalyn?"

_Oh, bloody hell,_ he thought as he took in the sight of Peter's wife. _Peter is __**not**__ going to like this at all._

_

* * *

_

He could sense that it was almost time. His Valiant dear one was riding towards him urgently. Her cries for help tore at him, but he had to wait, for everything had to happen in its own time.

His Steadfast Queen was beginning to find her faith again, while his Magnificent, Just, and Gentle children fought in their own ways to defend Narnia. He was so proud of all of them. They had done more for Narnia than he could have possibly hoped – and it was their love that made it all possible.

But most importantly, his Merciful child would find the strength to endure, thrive, and love, and thus lead Narnia into another age of peace when all was said and done.

Yes, things were about to work out just as they should.

* * *

Krisalyn had spent most of her married life waiting for Peter. Countless battles where he left her at Cair Paravel to wait for him, days of Court where Peter would sit in judgment while she tended to other duties, and of course the twenty-five long years while she had waited for him to return to Narnia were all fresh in her mind. Yet somehow none of those times had made her as anxious as she was now, with Peter just outside the How, fighting for his life and Narnia's freedom.

She couldn't bring herself to watch, but at the same time she craved news of how the duel was going. Had Peter been hurt? Or was he winning? Were the Telmarines going to try to cheat in order to guarantee themselves a victory, or did they actually have some degree of honor?

She found herself fidgeting anxiously, torn between staying with the healers and going up to the level above the entrance to see what was going on and wait with Susan. She needed to know that Peter was still alive – but could she actually stand there and watch him die?

It didn't really matter, she realized. It couldn't be as hard as standing here not knowing.

"Your Majesty?" A warm hand came to rest on her shoulder and she looked up to see Tati looking at her.

"Yes?"

"You need to go to the High King. It is apparent that you are more worried about him than you claim. If the battle begins, there will still be time for you to make it back here before the wounded begin arriving."

Krisalyn's eyes widened. "I cannot. I would only distract him."

"Or your presence might strengthen his resolve," the healer replied. "Go to him, Your Majesty."

Aslan's words from her vision earlier came back to her as Tati spoke. "_Give him a reason to fight if you fear his death in battle…if Peter's story is meant to end here, let him go with love, not anger or bitterness, and know that you will be together again one day." _Krisalyn hesitated, but slowly nodded. It would be hard to watch – but other than the tournaments and training sessions she'd watched, she'd never seen Peter fight before. She imagined that it would be very different fighting in a duel than fighting in a tournament – and Peter had confided in her once, after a tournament, that having her there in the royal box with his brother and sisters had indeed strengthened his resolve and made him more determined to win.

Turning, she left the side room where the healers had made their preparations and crossed through the main chamber where half of the Narnian army waited under Oreius' command for the orders to charge. The tall Centaur saluted her as he spotted her approaching. "Your Majesty? Is there aught that you need?"

"I need to see Peter and stand in support of him, General," Krisalyn said calmly. "I am going out there."

"Majesty, there is a duel going on, and the battle could start at any moment. It is too dangerous. His Majesty will not allow you to put yourself in harm's way."

"I _am_ going out, General," Krisalyn said firmly. "My mistakes up to now have been numbered just as high as Peter's – and that is a trend I intend to break right now."

She looked up into the tall Centaur's eyes. "Please stand aside."

Oreius' tail lashed against his flanks viciously, showing his agitation with her decision before he finally nodded. "Very well, but I shall escort you, Your Majesty."

Krisalyn was about to protest, but the look in Oreius' eyes stopped her. It was obvious that Oreius was _not_ going to back down on this, and she nodded rather than fight him over it. He had guarded her for over thirty years – she knew better than to expect him to pass that charge off now.

To her surprise, the General knelt on his front legs. "General?"

"I insist you ride on my back, Majesty. If the battle begins suddenly, I will bring you safely back to the How."

Krisalyn was stunned by Oreius' offer. Despite their half-equine form, it was considered crass to even consider riding a Centaur – or a Talking Horse for that matter – since they were proud and fierce, as well as stubbornly independent. He clearly knew what he was offering, but she would never have thought that he would consider it. "Oreius, I cannot."

"I insist, Your Majesty. It is not considered rude if the need is dire or I offer. Please."

Krisalyn hesitated for a moment longer before she picked up her skirts and slipped astride Oreius' back. She grabbed his shoulders as he stood, but immediately released him as soon as he was back on all four feet. She trusted him not to drop her, so there was no need to hold on as he turned and trotted out of the How toward the ruins.

As they emerged, Krisalyn blinked until her eyes focused, before her gaze fastened on the ruins. Caspian and Edmund stood side by side on the near side, but even from the height she had on Oreius' back she couldn't see Peter. Her heart leapt into her throat. _Where is he? Am I too late?_

Then she spotted him rising to his hands and knees from the ground. His helm was gone and she could see purplish bruises beginning to erupt all over his face.

"Peter! Get up!" she called, seeing Miraz approaching him from behind. Were her fears about to become reality?

"Krisalyn?"

She heard her name called, but didn't answer, all of her attention on her husband. Peter had looked up, startled, at her cry. He met her gaze for a long moment, a look of shock on his face. She held his gaze, trying to will strength into him, to let him know that she was going to support him, no matter what. She tried to convey that to him with her eyes and her expression.

She didn't know if he understood or not, but a moment later he was back on his feet. His sword was in his hand and he raised it, fending off several of Miraz's blows as he backpedaled towards his own lines.

"Respite!" Peter called as he stepped back several more paces. Miraz paused, hesitated, and then nodded. It was the right of either combatant to request a respite any time he wished, and the honorable action was to honor the request. If Miraz refused now and _he_ asked for one later, Peter would be well within his rights to refuse.

Miraz turned and stalked back to his own side where his men were waiting with a cup. The Narnians, as the challengers, had provided both combatants with spiced cider and water before the fight began. Miraz sat down in the chair that he had brought with him, taking the offered cup as he glared across the ruins at Peter.

Krisalyn let out a slow breath before she swung her leg over Oreius' back and dropped to the ground before the Centaur could stop her. She knew that he had expected her to stay on his back the whole time so that he could make a fast retreat with her if necessary, but she had things to say to Peter, and she was not going to do so looming overtop of him, let alone do it where Oreius could hear her. She hurried up to stand next to Edmund and Caspian as Peter approached.

"Krisalyn, what are you doing here?" Peter asked, his chest heaving and his blue eyes filled with concern and a hint of panic. He looked past her at Oreius. "Take her back inside, General. _Immediately._"

"I'm not going anywhere, Peter," she said firmly. "I'm standing with you until this is over."

"A battlefield is no place for you," Peter replied. "Please, Kris, go with Oreius."

"No."

He was about retort, his eyes growing frustrated at her refusal, when she took his hand and pulled him with her, away from the ruins and towards the How. He resisted at first, but she reached out and touched his cheek. "Just a moment, Peter. I only want a moment."

He stared at her, but then nodded and followed her onto the grass between the ruins and the How, away from Edmund, Caspian, Glenstorm, and Oreius. As soon as they were out of earshot, she turned to face him. He looked up at her expectantly. She still wasn't used to the fact that she was now taller than he was, since when she had met him he had been taller than she was. She reached up a hand and gently caressed his sweaty, bruised, and bleeding cheek.

* * *

"What is she doing?" Cor murmured to himself as he watched his cousin pull the High King aside. "She shouldn't be out there, putting herself at risk!"

One of his commanders peered out at the scene. "Perhaps they've heard from Queen Lucy?"

"Krisalyn wouldn't have kept that news from King Edmund, and we would have been informed too," Cor corrected him. "Something else is going on."

"Your Majesty! A message!" one of his men slipped up beside him, quietly, holding a scroll that had been hastily rolled, but not sealed. "One of the Squirrels delivered it."

Cor took the missive and unrolled it, skimming the scrawled message within.

_**Cor, Edmund managed to get a message to me a few minutes ago. "Danger. True threat not from Miraz. Beware betrayal from Lord Sopespian. Must eliminate at all costs." I don't know who Lord Sopespian is, but we must get word to your brother. If this Lord Sopespian is behind enemy lines, Corin may be able to do something about it. – Susan**_

"Lord Sopespian?" Cor murmured. "Who is Lord Sopespian?"

"And why does King Edmund feel the need to warn us about him?" the commander wondered.

Cor turned to look at the commander. "_Why_ is not important. Trying to figure out who this man is and stopping him is. If King Edmund believes it necessary to ensure peace in Narnia, that is all that matters, because that is why we're here." He glanced back at the note. "We need to get word to Corin. Lord Sopespian may be among the Telmarine army, and he may be the only person who can stop this man."

The soldier who'd brought the message spoke up. "Your Majesty, the Squirrel who delivered the note is still here. He had orders to carry word to Prince Corin as well, if you required it."

"Find him and send him to Corin," Cor replied, rolling up the scroll and handing it to the soldier. "Remind him to be cautious so he doesn't give away their position."

"Yes sir!"

* * *

_In the woods…_

Lucy knew she was in trouble. Destrier was exhausted, his strides and breath labored, but he was still running. The stallion had heart, but he would not be able to run much further. Lucy feared that if she couldn't find Aslan soon, the poor horse would literally run until he dropped dead, just because she asked it of him – and she couldn't bear to do that, knowing how much Caspian prized him.

And still the Telmarine pursued her through the woods, trying to catch her and gaining ground each time she dared to look back.

She had expected to find Aslan by now. Her brother was fighting Miraz – for all she knew, all three of her siblings might be fighting now, Aislynn might be dead…and Aslan might not be out here.

Her thoughts froze. Was she seriously starting to _doubt_ Aslan? Had she actually seen him, or had she only imagined it when they had been at the gorge? Had her own personal feelings about what had happened to Narnia caused her to _wish_ Aslan was there when he really wasn't? Had Peter and her siblings pinned their hopes for freeing Narnia on a pipe dream?

_Aslan…where are you?_ she wondered desperately.

She glanced back again and saw that her pursuer had gained even more ground on her. He was raising his crossbow again. She turned back and crouched as low as she could, hoping that his aim wasn't good. _Aslan!_

_**Don't be afraid, dear one. I am always with you.**_

The voice was warm, comforting, and strong in her mind. There was sound from her left, followed by a flash of gold. She glanced over and spotted a golden streak racing through the trees alongside her, angling to cut them off.

She glanced ahead again and saw the burst of speed the gold streak put on, coming to an abrupt halt on a small knoll next to the game trail Destrier was following, and watched as it resolved into a magnificent golden lion.

The lion roared, startling Destrier, who reared. Lucy felt herself slipping, but couldn't stop her fall and she landed with a grunt on her back. The lion stared down at her before gathering himself and leaping over Destrier, just as the Telmarine came into range. He plowed straight into the rider without touching the horse, which bolted as soon as his rider was taken to the ground.

Lucy scrambled to her feet, glancing over at Destrier, who stood with his head hanging low, his sides heaving and coated with sweat. His eyes were half-lidded, and every inch of him spoke of his exhaustion. She went over to him, reaching to stroke his wet neck. "Thank you, boy. You saved my life." She wished she could do something more for him, after he had nearly run himself to death, but she was here for a purpose and she had nothing with her to care for him.

Turning away reluctantly, she scurried up the small hill on the opposite side of the trail until she could see the lion. He was standing in a place that was relatively free of undergrowth, watching the Telmarine flee in terror. Then he turned and looked at her, the fierce expression on his face softening.

"Aslan!" Lucy cried, racing over to him. She didn't stop when she reached him, instead throwing her arms around his neck and crashing into him. He fell to the ground under her weight, chuckling as she fell on top of him and buried her face in his mane. "I knew it was you, I just knew it!" she exclaimed when she sat up and he had rolled upright to lie next to her. "It was so hard to convince the others to let me come."

"But you succeeded, dear one," Aslan rumbled, leaning forward to nuzzle her cheek with his soft nose. "I am very proud of you, Lucy."

"Aslan, we need help," Lucy said. "We're outnumbered, and Peter is fighting Miraz. Why did it take you so long? Why couldn't you come roaring in like last time?"

Aslan's amber eyes dimmed slightly with sorrow. "Things never happen the same way twice, dear one."

"But you'll help?" she asked.

Aslan chuckled again. "Of course. Come, we have much that we must do, and you'll need to ride on my back." He waited until she was seated on his back before he rose to his feet. He padded over to where Destrier stood and gently breathed on the exhausted horse. "Return to the How, my child. You have served valiantly."

A little life came back into Destrier, and he raised a head a little higher, breath evening out as he suddenly seemed to not be so weary. Lucy looked at the stallion. "He'll be safe, Aslan? I know how much Caspian values him."

"He'll make it back safely, Lucy," Aslan assured her.

"I'm glad. I never would have made it this far without him and Aislynn…oh! Aislynn!" Lucy cried, remembering her brave niece. "Aslan, we have to find her and save her. If she doesn't survive, Peter and Krisalyn will be devastated."

"We will, Lucy. Aislynn is in no immediate danger, though she _is_ a prisoner of the Telmarine army at the moment." Aslan turned and began to run through the trees, back towards the How. "Trust me, dear one. All will work out as it was meant to."

Lucy nodded and buried her hands in Aslan's mane as she leaned down to hug him. "I do trust you, Aslan."

* * *

Peter stared at his wife. He couldn't believe what she had just told him, and for a moment he wondered if he was dreaming. But no, surely not. He wouldn't be as exhausted, dirty, and hurt in a dream as he was now, no matter how vivid the dream. He literally didn't know what to say to her to acknowledge what she had told him – but now wasn't the time to think about it. Right now all he wanted was for her to be safe. He would finish the duel, defend Narnia, and then find her and take the time to really think about what she had said.

"Kris, please go back inside with Orieus," Peter asked her again. "I would feel so much better if you were out of harm's way."

"If a full battle starts, I will," she said softly. "But I am staying out here until the duel is over." Her violet eyes were bright with resolve, Peter noticed, before he realized it would be hopeless to argue with her.

He turned to head back to the duel, but then paused and looked back before turning to face her again. He hesitated, and then reached out to take her hand. She had completely surprised him with her earlier kiss, given how reticent she'd been about accepting his touch until that moment. He couldn't help but wonder if she would continue to resist him. Perhaps she would only be comfortable if _she_ initiated the contact?

But she did allow him to take her hand and draw her close this time, with none of the hesitancy she had previously shown. That convinced him that she was sincere in what she had told him just a few moments ago when she had pulled him aside. He didn't hug her, much as he wanted to, because he didn't want to contaminate her when she might shortly be working with injured Narnians, but he couldn't help himself as he leaned up to kiss her gently on the cheek.

Or started to, anyway. As soon as she realized his intentions, she pulled back slightly, just so that she could redirect his lips to meet her own. The kiss was soft and sweet, even though it stung his split lip fiercely. It was just like the kisses that they had shared in the early days after they had been betrothed, but before they married – soft, sweet, and chaste, but holding the promise of a deeper passion that she was reserving only for him, and only after they had wed. He did miss the passion, but he knew that they would have difficulty reclaiming it, simply because of the physical differences in their ages.

He pulled back and gazed into her violet eyes. "Be safe, Peter," she whispered. "Come back to me."

Peter nodded. "I will – but please, do me one favor?" When she nodded, he continued. "Either ask Oreius to let you ride him again, or ride with Caspian so one of them can get you back to the How if the Telmarines break their word?"

"I will, Peter. I promise."

Peter nodded again and turned back to the arena, sensing her fall into step behind him. Together, they headed over to where Edmund, Caspian, Oreius, and Glenstorm were waiting.

"All right, Pete?" Edmund asked quietly, glancing between them, his dark eyes curious.

Peter glanced at his wife again, memorizing her features. He intended to win, but if for some reason he didn't, he wanted her face to be fresh in his mind as he took his final breath. He watched as she went over to Caspian's horse and mounted easily, despite her skirts, before he answered his brother's question. "Yes, Edmund. I think everything is all right." He looked at Caspian. "I am charging you with Queen Krisalyn's safety, Caspian. "If they don't keep their word, get her back inside the How."

"You have my word, Your Majesty," Caspian swore. "The High Queen will be safe."

Peter nodded and took a deep breath as he tightened his grip on Rhindon's hilt. He stepped back into the dueling arena to the cheers of the Narnians. Across the way, Miraz rose to his feet as well, joining him in the center of the ruins.

With a yell, Miraz attacked with renewed energy and fury. He crashed into Peter, slamming his shield into Peter's face. His sword was heavy as it sliced through the air, clanging off of Peter's shield. Over and over, Miraz threw his weight into Peter, keeping him moving, giving him no chance to do more than block the flurry of blows.

Peter was forced to give ground – it was the only way he could gain enough time and space to read his opponent and figure out where the next attack was going to come from. As a result, he had no control over where he was going as Miraz herded him around the ring. He caught a glimpse of one of the half-walls that surrounded the ruins out of the corner of his eye before Miraz flung his weight into him and he crashed into the wall, catching it to keep from falling to the ground.

Miraz roared again, and Peter rolled along the wall to avoid the sword coming down at him. It rang off the stone and Peter fell to the ground as Miraz's foot tangled with his legs. He started to push himself back to his feet, but paused as he felt his shield sag on his arm. Desperately he rolled onto his back and kicked out, tripping Miraz, who couldn't compensate due to his injured leg. With a yell, Miraz collapsed, falling to his feet and giving Peter time to regain his.

As soon as he was on his feet, Peter glanced down at his shield. The shield itself was still intact, but the leather straps were partially severed – no doubt they had become brittle over the last twenty-five years and no one had thought to check them and see if they needed to be replaced. With the pounding the shield had been taking, it wasn't a surprise that they had started to snap.

Without a second thought, Peter tossed his shield aside. With the broken straps, it would be more of a hindrance than a help. He regretted it, since he had always been more comfortable with a shield _and_ a sword. But he was more than capable of _not_ using a shield, and had many times. He was determined not to give in. Oreius had trained him well, and he was _not_ going to let Miraz win. Krisalyn's face flashed in front of his eyes, followed by Aislynn, his siblings, and all of their friends who here waiting and cheering him on. Aslan had entrusted Narnia's safety to him. Up until now, he had failed in that trust. He would not fail here.

Miraz had regained his feet and was smirking at the sight of Peter without his shield. But Peter didn't react.

He was tired.

He had been beat on, had his shoulder dislocated, endured far too many blows to his face and head…and he was _done_. Oreius had told him that Narnia's Sword would need to be unleashed to deal with this threat, and Peter had agreed. Well, Narnia's Sword was about to be unleashed against her enemies – and Aslan have mercy on _anyone_ who got in his way, because he wouldn't.

* * *

"Peter, be careful," Edmund murmured when he saw his brother toss his shield aside. The shield landed face down, leaving the straps visible, and Edmund could see how loose the straps were. He knew his brother was perfectly capable of fighting without a shield, but things had become much more difficult.

The two combatants clashed again, swords crashing together full force. Peter countered a low blow before he twisted Rhindon around Miraz's sword, locking the hilts together. He shoved, twisting at the same time, and freed Rhindon as Miraz's sword clattered to the ground. Spinning in a tight pirouette, he used his momentum to bring Rhindon crashing down on Miraz's shield over and over again.

But something had changed. There was a grace and purity to Peter's movements that hadn't been there before. The rage that Edmund had seen him fighting with at different points earlier in the fight was gone. As Peter spun and Edmund got a good look on his face, a chill went down his spine. There was a fierce passion in his brother's face, but there was also a light; a calm serenity.

Narnia's Sword – the pure, honed blade of Aslan's power, channeled through the Great Lion's chosen High King – had been unleashed.

Peter was gone.

Only Narnia's Sword remained.

* * *

Glozelle watched in awe as a change came over the boy with the golden hair after the second respite. His movements became more fluid, as if something more powerful was acting _through_ him. His blue eyes seemed to crystallize and glitter with a serene calm, backed by a deeply hidden fire.

He had been around skilled warriors his whole life, and _never_ had he seen anything like this. It was as if Narnia's High King had been replaced by a pure weapon of power.

His hand tightened on the crossbow he held, although he kept his finger well away from the trigger. The blows raining down on Miraz were furious, but the Telmarine King blocked each one. It was an interesting reversal from earlier when it had been the High King who had been without a sword – but Miraz's attacks then had never been so crisp or pure as the High King's were now.

Miraz struck back, using his shield to force the High King back, giving him room to switch his shield from his left arm to his right. He slammed his shield into the High King's arm, knocking the gleaming sword aside. Now the golden-haired King was completely unarmed. As Miraz thrust the shield forward again, the High King caught it in both hands, twisting to try to wrench it out of Miraz's grip, but Miraz held on. Instead, the younger King twisted his whole body, ducked, and used the shield to force Miraz's arm behind his back.

Miraz tossed his elbow back, connecting with King Peter's nose. There was no longer anything remotely resembling honor or dignity in this fight. Now both combatants were being driven by instinct, a desire to win, and the urge to survive.

The High King stumbled back, but recovered quickly. Given that his allegiance was _supposed _to be towards Miraz, Glozelle should have been pleased at the way Miraz had regained the upper hand, but instead he found that he was hoping the High King would triumph. His hands tightened again on the crossbow, before he forced himself to loosen his grip. He would _not_ act so dishonorably and assassinate the young King. Miraz would have to win this fight on his own merit – Glozelle would not help him.

The High King – unarmed and seemingly vulnerable – suddenly dropped to one knee, his right hand balled into a fist, before he slammed his armored gauntlet into the gash on Miraz's leg.

Miraz roared with pain and dropped to his knees, grabbing for the wound, even as his opponent rose. The boy stood above Miraz' raising his fist to slam it into Miraz's face, but Miraz raised a hand in defense. "Respite!" he bellowed. "Respite!"

Glozelle couldn't see the High King's face, since the boy's back was to him, so he had no idea what thoughts might be racing through his mind, but he did stay the blow.

"This is no time for chivalry, Peter!" the Just King called from the opposite side.

But the High King only lowered his hand and nodded, stepping back before he headed for his own side. Glozelle glanced over, seeing the Just King, the two half-horse beasts, Prince Caspian, and the older woman with the kind expression. He wondered who the woman was – he had seen the High King kiss her earlier – and it had not been a kiss between strangers or friends. It was true the royalty often married young, but that age difference was extraordinary.

Prince Caspian met his gaze as the High King approached his own side, and Glozelle nodded respectfully. After the way he had been wronged, he had found honorable allies to stand with him to reclaim what had been wrongfully stolen. It was good to know that his former student had learned some measure of honor, even though his teacher had lost his own.

Glozelle lowered his gaze and met Miraz's smoldering one. The usurper looked at the crossbow, clearly expecting Glozelle to shoot the High King while his back was turned. But Glozelle would not. He was done serving a greedy tyrant.

Miraz apparently realized that Glozelle was not going to act, so he took the matter into his own hands. Reaching to his right, he seized his sword, even as he lurched to his feet and spun, raising the blade to plunge it into the High King's back.

* * *

Aislynn sighed. She was desperately worried over how her father was doing. Was the duel over? She was beginning to suspect that this camp was not part of the main Telmarine forces – the soldiers she could see moving outside the tent were all much too calm for them to be anywhere near the front lines. She didn't care how disciplined the Telmarine army was. _Any_ army grew excited or nervous prior to a battle, and these men were showing no signs of it.

She hoped that her father was still alive, that he had triumphed over Miraz. He had promised to be careful, and how would they ever get to know each other if he lost the duel? She already knew so little about him – she didn't want to have to wait for the rest of her life to learn more. Well, assuming of course, that she wasn't summarily executed for being a Narnian sympathizer the way the Lord had threatened. Then – or so she supposed – she would get to find out all about her father when she met him in Aslan's Country.

_Aslan…please. I don't know why you are silent and you are not answering my prayers, but please. Don't let this day end in such tragedy. The Narnians believe in you so much – don't let them down. It would be understandable if you loved them enough to call them all home to you – but surely that cannot be part of your plan. If it was, why would my father and his siblings have returned? If they are not intended to save Narnia, then why are they here?_

Shouts from outside the tent made her look up. Her face was throbbing, and the cuts had forced her to have to squint, as her cheek and the skin above her right eye had swollen. She listened for a moment and realized how excited the soldiers seemed to be, and sighed again. _They must have received orders to join the rest of the army for the battle. Either Father is dead, or the Telmarines are breaking the agreement that Uncle Edmund negotiated with them._

The shouts grew louder, but Aislynn couldn't bring herself to care. There was nothing she could do at the moment, imprisoned as she was. They had taken her mother's dagger and her bow and quiver, and whoever had tied her had been careful not to leave anything close enough for her to use to cut her bonds. Although it had been a bit of a wasted effort, given the way she had been tied. She couldn't even get enough slack in her bonds to be able to sit. Her legs and feet had gone numb from the way she was forced to kneel, and her back was beginning to ache from the way her arms had been tethered so tightly to the bonds around her ankles.

_I wonder if they'll just leave me here and come back for me once the battle is over, or if they plan to take me with them? If Father is alive and they show him that I'm their prisoner, he might very well give into their demands to keep me safe._

No, she wouldn't let that happen. It didn't matter that the Lord who was her captor didn't know that she was the daughter of King Peter and the heir to the Narnian throne. If she was displayed as a prisoner of war, they might assume that Peter would give in anyway. If he refused and they killed her, it wouldn't matter if the Narnians won the battle. She had claimed to be important to Cor, and under the "laws" of diplomacy as they no doubt understood them, they would assume that Cor would break off their alliance with Narnia over the insult of the death of their ambassador, and might even go to war _against_ Narnia to avenge her death.

Of course, she knew Cor and Corin well enough to know they would never break the long-standing alliance with Narnia…but it didn't matter. She was _not_ going to let that happen! If that seemed to be the plan, she would rather die by her own hand and be welcomed into Aslan's Country than be used against her father and her people – both of them – in that fashion. If that was their plan, she would fight to get free and steal a dagger from them, and plunge it into her own heart before she would become a tool for the Telmarines.

The shouting outside wasn't dying down…if anything, it was becoming louder and more panicked. Aislynn frowned deeply and looked up. What in the world was going on that would have an entire regiment of trained soldiers yelling like that? What could be alarming them so much?

_Maybe…maybe it is the Narnian army! Maybe they routed the Telmarine army and learned that I was here and are coming to save me!_

Of course, that only opened a similar possibility of her being used as a hostage against her father, possibly to ensure the safety or safe passage of the Lord who was holding her prisoner. She firmed her resolve. If that was the case, well…the situation was the same. She would die before she let herself be used in that way.

A roar – loud, magnificent, and deep – shattered the air, drowning out the noise outside. Any semblance of order in the encampment vanished with the sound of that roar. The Telmarines – trained soldiers all – dropped their weapons, turned, and fled. She could see them racing past the tent, but not one of them was making any move to come near her. One of the soldiers tripped over one of the tent pegs, slamming into the tent and making it sway dangerously. One side of the flap, loosened by the impact, fell over the entrance, making it harder for her to see what was going on outside.

"Aislynn?" a voice called. It was a young voice, high pitched and full of worry.

_That…that can't possibly be…_

"Aislynn? Where are you?" the voice called again. "Aislynn, if you can hear me, please answer me!"

"Lucy?" Aislynn called out, coughing a little bit as she tried to shout around her dry throat. She forcibly cleared her throat and tried again. "Aunt Lucy, is that you?"

"Aislynn?"

"I'm here! In the tent!"

A moment later, the tent flap was shoved aside and Aislynn squinted in the light. After a moment, her vision in her good eye cleared and she made out the form of her Aunt standing in the entrance. "Aunt Lucy?"

"Aislynn!" Lucy ran into the tent and dropped to her knees beside her niece. She took in the sight of Aislynn, tied to the center tent post, her face bruised and swollen, and immediately unsheathed her dagger from her waist. She reached behind Aislynn and began sawing through the bindings. "Are you all right? They didn't hurt you?"

"One of the Lords hit me a few times when I wouldn't answer his questions," Aislynn replied, still staring in shock at her aunt through her one good eye. "But he didn't do anything worse than just backhand me." As she spoke her hands came free and she toppled forward without the post to support her, her legs had gone so numb.

"Aislynn!" Lucy reached out and caught her as she fell forward.

"I'm all right," Aislynn reassured her aunt. A moment later Lucy had her ankles free and Aislynn – somewhat painfully – twisted around into a more proper sitting position so he could rub the circulation back into her legs and feet. Her hands were clumsy, but slowly she felt them beginning to tingle with the renewed blood flow. "My feet and legs fell asleep."

"What about your face?" Lucy reached out and gently brushed her hand across Aislynn's brow, just above the cut above her eye. Aislynn hissed and pulled back sharply.

"It's just cut and swollen. It'll heal," Aislynn said. "When he – the Lord who questioned me – when he hit me, he was wearing a ring."

"Well, I'll just put a drop of my cordial on it…" Lucy began, reaching for her belt, only to pause. "Oh. I forgot that I gave my cordial to Caspian to give to Edmund."

"It will heal on its own, Aunt Lucy. There's no need to waste a drop of your cordial on it." Aislynn flexed her feet, wincing a bit at the painful tingling, before she began massaging her wrists. "What are you doing here? You were supposed to find Aslan."

"And so she did, young one," a deep voice rumbled from outside the tent.

Aislynn started. "Is…is _He_ here?" When Lucy nodded, her eyes shining, Aislynn looked towards the tent flap. "But…he needs to help Father!"

"He will," Lucy said. "He's promised that everything is going to work out exactly as it should now."

Aislynn wasn't as sure. After all, it was her father who was fighting right now, either in a duel or a full battle. "You're not worried?"

Lucy shook her head. "No." The Valiant Queen stood and pulled Aislynn to her feet, supporting her as Aislynn grimaced, before she took a few steps forward, allowing her niece to lean on her as she walked and regained her balance. "I really wish you'll let me put some cordial on your face when we get back to the How. It looks horrible, and you don't want it to get infected. Besides, Peter and Krisalyn will panic if they see you like this."

"I really am all right," Aislynn assured her. "It's not the first time. When I used to train with Oreius, I'd occasionally get a little banged up. I've received a black eye be…fore…"

Her voice trailed off at the sight in front of her. Standing in a beam of sunlight, which lanced down through the trees and turned his coat into golden fire, was a large, magnificent lion. And not just any lion. Aislynn knew immediately that she was looking at her namesake, Aslan, the Great Lion.

She stepped towards him, slowly. As she approached, she could sense the power radiating from him. It was so strong it was almost palpable. He was so terrible and magnificent all at the same time. Slowly, she sank to her knees in front of him. What had she been thinking, all those years ago when she had childishly told her mother that she wanted to meet him?

A warm, sweetly scented breath ghosted across her face. "Rise, daughter," the deep voice rumbled, sounding at once as fierce as a thunderstorm, but as gentle as a summer breeze.

Aislynn looked up and saw that great, royal, solemn face only inches away from her. The deep amber eyes gleamed with love and compassion. Slowly, she rose to her feet. It seemed so wrong to be standing in front of Aslan. There was so much power and majesty in his very being.

"Do not fear. I am well pleased." Aslan's voice softened. "You took a great risk in order to give Queen Lucy the chance to reach me. What you did was born out of love." He nodded, his golden mane rippling with the movement. "Yes. I am well pleased indeed, my child." He looked over at Lucy, and smiled. "Now, however, there is much still to be done. I think your friends have slept quite long enough, don't you?"

He suddenly flung his head back. Lucy seemed to realize what was about to happen and stuffed her fingers into her ears. Aislynn followed suit not a moment to soon as Aslan opened his mouth and roared. If anything, it was louder than the one that had chased the Telmarines away had been. Aislynn felt the power of it go right through her, making her shiver with a combination of fear and delight.

As Aslan lowered his head, Aislynn removed her fingers, but it didn't matter, for her ears were still ringing from the strength and volume of that roar. She looked over at her Aunt and could see that she felt the same way, but nevertheless her face was still beaming and radiant. It was obvious how much she enjoyed being in Aslan's presence, and Aislynn knew in that moment that she had made the right decision by sacrificing herself.

"Aislynn, here. One of the men dropped this as he was leaving," Lucy said, handing her back her mother's dagger in its blue-dyed sheath. Aislynn took it gratefully. She had hoped that she hadn't lost it permanently. Even though it was hers now, as a gift from her mother, she really hadn't wanted to lose it the same day it was given to her, since it obviously had special meaning to her mother.

"Come, children. Narnia still has need of us, and she will need you before all is finished this day." Aslan lay down, and Lucy immediately clambered onto his back. Aislynn was slower to move, appalled at the casually disrespectful gesture. This was the Great Lion, who had sung the world into being, and Lucy was _riding _him as if he was a _horse?_

"Come, daughter. Your father has need of you."

She hesitated again, then nodded and stepped closer. She moved slower than her Aunt had, but eventually she too was seated astride Aslan's back, her hands wrapped around Lucy's slender waist, holding onto his mane, just as Lucy was doing.

With another roar, Aslan sprang forward, into the trees, heading east, back to the How.

* * *

_Don't forget to review and encourage me to continue! *runs from rabid readers*_


	32. Chapter 31: Never Yield

_Author's Note: *waves to readers* Hi everyone! Remember how I said the previous chapter was the longest one in the story? Well…I lied. This chapter has now become the longest, at thirty-two pages…and the entire story is now over five hundred pages long…and we're still not done!_

_I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks to all the reviewers: __**WiseQueen**__, __**doggirlyn**__, __**Lauren**__, __**Quathis**__, __**Victoria Alatamir Wan, **__and one anonymous fan. I'm always so glad to see your reviews, and I can't wait to see what you think about this monstrosity!_

* * *

_**Chapter Thirty-One: Never Yield**_

_Aslan's How…_

Narnia's Sword was going to triumph in this duel. It was a simple fact, and Edmund knew it to be truth the moment that he realized that the change had come over Peter. His brother's movements became more fluid, more graceful, with each passing moment. It was his brother out there – and yet it wasn't.

The first time Edmund had ever seen Narnia's Sword unleashed, it had frightened him. He hadn't known how to explain what he had witnessed that day.

_Edmund gripped as tightly with his legs as he could as Phillip kicked out, smashing in the teeth of an Ogre that had come up behind him with the intention of stabbing the younger King in the back. The impact threw him forward slightly, but he trusted Phillip –the two of them had been partners ever since Beruna. The Talking Horse, upon learning that Edmund had never ridden before, had taken it upon himself to teach him the __**proper**__ way to ride, right from the beginning, so that he wouldn't learn any bad habits._

_Even as Edmund laid about him with his sword, Philip was using his natural weaponry – his hooves and teeth – to his own advantage, crippling or distracting many of the enemy long enough for Edmund to finish them off. They plunged through the ranks of the enemy, shadowed by two of the great Leopards who were guarding Philip's flanks and keeping the enemy from getting into a position where neither Horse nor rider would be able to react in time._

_As part of their duties, Peter and Edmund were rooting out the last remnants of the Witch's forces – many had fled when Aslan had appeared on the battlefield, but as rumors had trickled in to them at Cair Paravel, the two Kings (and sometimes Susan and Lucy) would ride out to deal with the Fell Creatures. This battle was yet another one of those small campaigns – a group of Fell Creatures had been terrorizing some of the Narnians who lived in the northwestern area of Narnia – the area around the Witch's castle, where Peter's Northern territory and Edmund's western expanse joined. This was the third such campaign that they had fought this year, their second year as Narnia's Kings._

_A Narnian trumpet shattered the air with a rallying call. Edmund's head shot up, even as he impaled a Hag on the tip of his sword. That was Peter's call – he was calling to the army to rally to his side – a call that he would only use if his situation was serious._

_Philip tossed his head. "Hold on, my King!" he cried, before he wheeled about to face the other way. Edmund scanned the battlefield, looking for his brother's distinctive mount. Just like Philip and Edmund had become partners, Peter had remained battle partners with his own mount from Beruna, a handsome Unicorn named Lyeit. On the battlefield, the Unicorn was distinctive – tall, with a shining golden horn that reflected the light brilliantly._

_It took Edmund a moment, but he finally spotted his brother – but he didn't see Lyeit. His brother was standing with his back against a rocky rise, Rhindon unsheathed and cutting a swathe through the enemy that dared to challenge him. At Beruna, a year ago, Edmund had suspected that Peter would prove to be a brilliant swordsman, and a year of intense daily training under Oreius had begun to bear that suspicion out._

_At the moment, however, Peter was badly outnumbered. They had only had a small force with them, since the reports had only been a small group of Fell Creatures – but their intelligence had seemed to be wrong, for there were many more Fell Creatures that Edmund had been prepared for. It wasn't a number that was so overwhelming that they couldn't handle it, but it just meant they had to be more careful._

_From his height on Philip's back, Edmund could see that Lyeit had been caught in the side with a mace swung by a large Ogre and had gone down, spilling Peter to the ground. Peter didn't appear to be injured, but he was now standing bravely in front of his friend defending his life. He was pressed upon by two Hags, a Dwarf, and an Efreet._

"_Narnia!" Edmund screamed, standing in Philip's stirrups. "To the High King!"_

_The call was taken up by the Narnians around him as a trumpet again blew Peter's rallying call. Immediately, the Narnians began trying to break away from their battles and fight their way to the High King's side._

"_Philip! Get me to Peter!" Edmund ordered, dropping back into the saddle._

_Philip tossed his head and charged forward, gathering himself. Edmund braced himself as Philip suddenly jumped, getting enough height on his jump that he leaped clear over the heads of three Dwarves who were on Edmund's side. Edmund kept his eyes on Peter, even as Philip landed and began racing through the enemy ranks._

_They were closing in on Peter when Edmund suddenly saw a change come over Peter. His face grew remarkably still and calm, and his attacks became more fluid than Edmund had ever seen them before, even when Peter was having an especially good day on the training fields. There was a grace and a beauty to each motion that Edmund had never seen in his brother's sword work before – and it was both terrible and beautiful._

_**That**__ was __**not**__ his brother._

Edmund had seen his brother change that day, the first day that Narnia's Sword had been unleashed in her defense. Peter's aura – always strong and bold on the battlefield – had become so bright and so powerful, it had been humbling to see. But at the same time, there had been something so powerfully dangerous about his brother – it had been as if Peter had gone completely mad and would simply strike down anything or _anyone_ that stood in his way. At first, Edmund had thought that Peter, in that moment, had finally mastered the perfect fighting clarity that Oreius had been trying to get them to embrace – the point at which all emotion melted away, leaving only a supreme awareness of one's opponent and one's self, a place where no fear or pain could touch one – until he had talked to his brother later.

Peter had been unable to describe exactly what becoming Narnia's Sword was like, but over the years of their reign he had insisted that it was _not_ the same as what Oreius had been trying to teach them. All he'd been able to tell Edmund about it was that it was if he had connected to something so much more powerful and mighty than he was, that he simply became a conduit or a vessel for it.

Over the years of their reign, it had happened only a handful of times, but whenever Peter and Edmund sat down and talked about it, they realized that it only seemed to happen when Narnia was peril. It seemed that whatever caused Peter to become Narnia's Sword could not be invoked at will, or simply to defend _Peter's _life.

Edmund watched as Narnia's Sword brought Miraz to his knees, one gauntleted fist held up and ready to strike, even as Miraz called for a respite. Edmund was expecting to see the blow fall regardless of the respite – he had never known his brother to spare any enemy when he was acting as Narnia's Sword – yet Peter stayed the blow. For suddenly, it was Peter again, not the Sword. The change was almost instantaneous, rather than the slow change back that Edmund usually saw. Normally it took Peter several hours to emerge from whatever state becoming Narnia's Sword left him in – he could still function, but there was just a peaceful tranquility to the change, as if – whatever it was – was giving him time to come to terms with what had happened.

Although it went against everything he was and believed in as the Just King, Edmund couldn't stop himself from calling out to his brother. "This is no time for chivalry, Peter!"

Instead, Peter lowered his hand, nodding before he stepped around Miraz, heading back to his own side.

"What just happened?" Caspian breathed. Edmund glanced over at the Prince, whose eyes were wide with shock and awe.

"You just saw Narnia's Sword," Edmund said simply. "I've only witnessed it a few times myself, but –" he broke off, horrified as he watched Miraz seize his sword and leap to his feet, spinning in order to plunge the blade into his brother's back while he was vulnerable. "Peter! Watch out!"

Peter spun around and ducked, barely avoiding the blade that whistled past his head – so close, in fact, that Edmund actually saw several blonde hairs float towards the ground in the blade's wake. It honestly couldn't have been any closer as Peter straightened back up.

But that wasn't Peter.

As he caught a glimpse of his brother's face, Edmund realized that, for the first time in the fifteen years of their reign, he was witnessing the power that made Peter Narnia's Sword acting solely to preserve his brother's life. The aura around him – although not visible – could certainly be felt, and the light in the bright blue eyes that heralded the change was there as well.

Peter dodged another swipe of the usurper's blade before he suddenly grabbed it in both hands – by the blade, no less – and twisted it free of Miraz's grasp. With one hand, he shoved Miraz back as he wrapped his other hand around the hilt. Then he stepped forward and drove the blade into Miraz's side.

Miraz gasped.

Peter pulled the blade back out – it was covered in Miraz's blood, a deep wound indeed. Slowly, Miraz fell to his knees as Peter – or was it Narnia's Sword now? – raised the bloody blade in preparation to take Miraz's life. But again, he stayed the blow.

Edmund found himself holding his breath, wondering what would happen. Miraz was a threat to all of Narnia – he had to be eliminated, and if it _was_ Narnia's Sword that stood there now, Edmund knew the blade would fall. Narnia's Sword acted in Narnia's defense, always. An enemy to Narnia would never be permitted to live.

Miraz looked up and sneered. "What's the matter boy? Too cowardly to take a life?"

"It's not mine to take," Peter hissed. Yes, it was Peter who stood there now. And, as Edmund and all of the Narnians and Telmarines watched, it was Peter who lowered the sword and half-turned, before he held the bloody blade out to Caspian. It was _Peter's_ calm, serene gaze that was on his brother's face as he watched the prince stare between the blade and his uncle.

* * *

Slowly, Caspian stepped forward, into the center of the ruins where his uncle knelt, watching him. He stepped up next to King Peter and stared into those bright blue eyes for a long moment. The High King's gaze was quiet and filled with a calm confidence, along with a hint of pain from his injuries.

Why was the High King doing this? Yes, Caspian had been wronged by his uncle, but so had all of Narnia. King Peter had as much right to claim Miraz's life as he did. It didn't make any sense. He knew King Peter had killed before, so it couldn't be an aversion to taking a life as Miraz had claimed.

"Caspian." His name was soft when the High King spoke. "This duel was to decide your right to the throne. You were the one who was wronged. It is your right to decide his fate."

Caspian reached out, hesitated, and then took hold of the hilt, wrapping his hand around it. As soon as he had a firm grip on it, the High King released the blade and stepped past him, stooping to pick up Rhindon before he walked over to King Edmund. Caspian would have expected the younger King to begin fussing over his brother, but everyone was watching him.

It was actually intimidating.

And it made him wonder if he was even ready to be a King. He was eighteen in a month, and according to Telmarine law he had to be eighteen to claim the throne. But the pressure of all the eyes on him as he stood there with his uncle kneeling at his feet, his uncle's sword in his hand, waiting for his fate to be decided…for a moment, Caspian froze. He didn't know what he should do. Part of him wanted, so badly, to simply kill his uncle for what the man had done. His uncle had tried to have him murdered, _had_ murdered his father, usurped the throne, had killed countless numbers of Narnians over the years since Narnia had been conquered, had caused the rightful Queen and heir to live in exile for twenty-five years, and had declared war on the Narnians. By any law, he was too dangerous to be allowed to live, and justice surely demanded that his life be forfeit for his crimes.

But was that a decision that Caspian could make? Could he calmly stab or behead his uncle here and now, in front of all of these witnesses? What would he do, as King, when he had to pass down a sentence against a criminal? How would he safely lead his people into battle against another army, if he couldn't make a decision here and now, especially when it was a decision that could end a war?

Slowly, he raised the blade, carefully bracing it with his left hand as he stood above his uncle, trying to decide what he should do. Two days ago, he would have gladly killed Miraz for his crimes.

_Eliminating him will also eliminate the threat to the Narnians. Trumpkin told us that Miraz vowed to find me, even if he had to burn down the entire forest. If my uncle is dead, here and now, not even Sopespian could legally challenge my right to the throne, since he witnessed the agreement made between King Edmund and Miraz. Narnia would be safe, and I can deal with Sopespian once I am crowned. The Narnians would support my being crowned immediately, rather than waiting another month._

Caspian tightened his arm, prepared to drive the sword into his uncle's black heart, when something – perhaps a look in Miraz's eye, or a thought whispered into his heart – stopped him.

_He's a father now…yes, he robbed me of __**my**__ father, but can I really deprive my cousin of __**his**__ father? I know what it is like to grow up without a father. Do I have the right to inflict that pain on another person, and possibly start this whole cycle over again?_

Miraz was studying him with those dark eyes that were full of pain from his wounds – but there was something else there as well. There was surrender – for he knew he'd lost – and a deep contemplation…and….pride?

"Perhaps I was wrong," the usurper murmured. "Maybe you do have the makings of a Telmarine King after all." He studied Caspian for another moment before he bowed his head, waiting for the blow.

_A __**Telmarine**__ king? Ambitious, greedy, cruel? One like you?_ Some inner part of Caspian recoiled at the thought. _NO! I am __**not**__ going to be like that. I am Narnian!_

With a shout of outrage at the very idea that he could become like his uncle, Caspian drove the blade forward – and the bloody tip sank into a tuft of grass right in front of his uncle. Miraz looked up, startled, and Caspian leaned down close to him. "Not one like you," he hissed fiercely. "Keep your life, but I am giving the Narnians back their kingdom." He looked up and caught Glozelle's gaze again, seeing the Telmarine general give him a nod of respect. In that moment, as the Narnians cheered, he felt like a King.

_I will __**not**__ be a Telmarine King and take what is not mine. I am Narnian, and I will be a King whom Aslan can be proud of. I will hold myself with dignity and honor, just like King Peter and King Edmund._

* * *

Peter watched as Caspian spared his uncle's life and felt proud. The prince had made the right decision, whatever his reasoning might be. Yes, Miraz more than deserved death, but so had Edmund when he had betrayed them by going over to the Witch. And Aslan had spared Edmund's life and forgiven him. Now, Caspian had spared Miraz's life, and even though there wasn't forgiveness – yet – there was no reason to think that Miraz might not be able to earn forgiveness in time.

And yes, sparing Miraz's life would mean that there would likely be some difficulties in convincing the Telmarines that the Narnians would not hurt them and that they were people too. But in time, those prejudices could be overcome, and Peter knew that the Narnians and the Telmarines _could_ integrate and live in peace. After all, Narnia was the seat of Aslan's grace. It had always been a bountiful land, and could be again. There would be plenty to go around for everyone.

It was right at that moment, as Caspian started to turn away from his uncle, that the last vestiges of energy that he had gained from awakening Narnia's Sword faded, and all the wounds and bruises he had sustained in the duel began to make themselves known with a vengeance. He was going to be paying for this duel for days while his body recovered from the punishment he had endured.

But there was something that he had to do. Normally, he would have done this in private, but for now, he had to at least acknowledge what had been given to him.

He rested one hand on one of the stone pillars next to him and sent a wordless feeling of love and thanks out. It was good Narnian stone, these ruins, and still bound to his kingdom. After all, it had been Narnia that had saved his life just now, and he knew that the stone would respond to his touch.

Edmund had always believed that it was Aslan's power, working through Peter that made him Narnia's Sword, especially after the way Peter had described it as being a vessel for a greater power.

But Peter knew differently.

"_Aslan," Peter said as the great Lion approached him from where he'd been walking with some of the other Narnians as they journeyed from Beruna to Cair Paravel, where Peter and his siblings would be crowned Kings and Queens, "I don't think I can do this."_

_Now that the battle with the Witch was over, Peter was having serious doubts about his ability to lead these people, despite the oath he had sworn the night before. He was just a kid, after all!_

"_Peter, I know you can." Aslan's voice was supremely calm as he stepped out of the line of marching, singing Narnians, heading for a small rise at the side of the trail. Without being told, Peter followed him, and together they ascended to the rise and looked down at the Narnians, who cheered to see their High King and the Great Lion standing together. "You led the Narnians yesterday, and you have the power and skill within you to be a great leader. My children are just like you and your siblings – they have the same emotions, cares, and worries as you, no matter what their outward form may be."_

_Peter still wasn't as sure, and the closer they drew to Cair Paravel, the more uncertain he became. It was one thing to swear an oath and believe he could do it the night before, when he was still excited and jubilant from winning the battle. It was another thing to realize that the Narnians' lives were quite literally going to be in the hands of him and his siblings. They would depend on the four of them for their every need – and Peter had never taken a class at school in how to be a King._

_Aslan seemed to sense his conflict, despite Peter not being able to put his feelings into words. "Peter, the Deep Magic called you and your siblings here, because you are the ones Narnia has been waiting for. No one comes to Narnia without a purpose." The Great Lion extended his claws and with one swipe, dug a furrow in the ground. Then, he slowly shifted his weight and backed up a few steps._

_Peter looked at him, uncertain as to what he was doing. Aslan fixed him with a patient look. "Peter, touch the earth."_

_Uncertain, but willing to listen, Peter knelt on the ground and reached out to touch the torn-up earth. As he did, he wondered if – given how he had seen that trees and bushes and water all had spirits associated with them – the earth had felt Aslan's claws digging into it. Had it felt pain? Was there a true earth spirit like the beautiful ones that he had seen around the camp and moving among the Narnians now?_

_Suddenly, he felt a tingling in his fingertips, and a strange, sick sensation came over him – not like he was going to throw up, but more as if his stomach was cramping and roiling at the same time._

"_Do you see, Peter?" Aslan asked. "When I sang Narnia into being, she became one of my children as much as the Centaurs, Fauns, and Talking Beasts are. In her own way, she has her own soul. As a result, Narnia recognizes you, her High King. She knows your touch, and will __**always**__ respond to it, for you will have authority over __**all**__ Kings and Queens of Narnia – past, present, and future. It is from __**you**__ that she will gain her strength, for you will be her constant. But when you are in need, she will return that strength to you ten-fold."_

_Peter marveled at that idea. It was so foreign, and yet, it felt so right. But then he caught Aslan's words. "But not to Edmund, Susan, or Lucy?"_

"_To a lesser extent, yes. In time, perhaps, they too may be able to draw on Narnia's strength at their greatest need. The oath you swore last night has linked you to this land. If your siblings, in their own time, freely do the same, Narnia's link to them will be strengthened as well, and she will be able to give more of her strength back to them as well – but it will __**always**__ come back to you."_

_Peter still wasn't sure he understood. How could a pledge of loyalty and fealty to Aslan link him to the land or – soul? – of an entire country? Was Narnia really self-aware enough to know when he would be in need and literally be able to give herself back to him? He started to rise, but the sick feeling strengthened and he paused. Then, slowly and with a careful hand, he filled in the torn up earth, smoothing it out and gently patting it down until it was whole again._

_A pleased rumble came from Aslan as he watched Peter's action. "You will do well, High King." The great golden eyes were bright. "Yes. You will do very well."_

In a way, Edmund was right, that Aslan's power was what allowed him to become Narnia's Sword, but it was through the life and soul that he had sung into the land at the very beginning. It was Narnia herself that shared her strength with him, that acted through Peter. It had begun the night he had sworn the oath at Beruna, and just as the bond with his country had formed from that oath, so too had Narnia's Sword come to be.

But since – at least to his knowledge – his siblings had never sworn an oath to Narnia like the one he had, he had never told them the truth about where that power came from. Aslan had said that it was an oath that had to be sincerely and _freely_ sworn, and Peter had not wanted his oath to pressure his siblings into believing that they needed to swear a similar oath. Besides, it was also a very personal and private thing – if they _had_ sworn such an oath, they may have chosen to keep it quiet, just as he had, and for the same reasons.

"Peter? Are you all right?" Edmund asked, apparently noticing the wince of pain that had crossed his face as his body made it's displeasure with him known.

"I'll be fine, Ed. I think I'm just bruised," Peter replied as Caspian reached them. "I don't need Lu's cordial, if that's what you're implying." He looked around. "Have Lucy and Aislynn –"

A muffled cry from the center of the ruins caught their attention, and they turned to see Miraz staggering a step before he toppled to the paved floor – one of Susan's red-fletched arrows buried in his side. There was a moment of stillness before he exhaled one last time and went limp. Peter turned sharply and looked up to where Susan was standing. Her bow was held loosely in her hand, but hung at her side. She looked down at them and shook her head – she hadn't fired.

The Lord who had come over as a Marshall stared at Miraz's body, and then looked up, wild-eyed at the Narnians. "Treachery! They shot him!" He seized Miraz's sword from where Caspian had left it stuck in the earth and ran for his horse. "They murdered our King!"

Peter whipped around and pointed at Susan. "Treachery! Be ready!"

Caspian ran for his horse and flung himself into the saddle in front of Krisalyn. He steadied the horse, ready to send it into the How to lead the charge as Krisalyn wrapped her hands around his waist for balance.

"Peter!" Krisalyn screamed.

Peter spun around again to see a large Telmarine – the third Marshal – bearing down on him and Edmund with sword drawn. Without hesitating, Peter charged forward, countered the man's attack, and with a single swipe of Rhindon, parted the man's head from his body. It was clean and quick – but it proved that he not only could, he _would_ take a life if necessary.

Edmund joined him as he reached the Telmarine side of the ruins. Together they stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing out at their enemies – at Narnia's enemies. "Peter."

"I'm fine, Ed," Peter looked over at his brother. He had a serious question to ask his brother, although he suspected that he already knew what the answer would be. "Will the High King's Shield stand beside Narnia's Sword today?" It was a question he had asked every time they had gone to battle together after the first time he had become Narnia's Sword.

Edmund smiled at the familiar words. "As ever and always, without a doubt, my King."

The catapults on the enemy line began to swing; a moment later large boulders began to thud into the ground around them, spraying them with dirt. But Peter held his ground, and Edmund stood beside him. His brother would never leave him to stand alone as long as there was breath in his body, and Peter drew comfort from that. He could rely on Edmund, and he knew Edmund could rely on him.

Sword and Shield. Narnia's defense and the High King's protector. Together, in Aslan's name, there was nothing they could not do.

* * *

Watching Peter fight took her breath away. The grace of his movements, the intensity of the fight – they were nothing compared to the lethal aura that her husband exuded.

In the nine years that they had been together, she had seen Peter irritated before, she had seen him angry, and she had seen him completely lose his temper. In most cases, Edmund had been there to steady him and balance out his rages on the rare occasions when they completely broke free. But even when he was most angry, she had never seen him with such a dangerously lethal aura as the one that was around him as he fought for Narnia.

The most frightening part, though, was his utter _calmness_. The power of that aura was such a stark contrast to the serenity on his face. Someone with that much power should not be so calm.

She couldn't help but wonder if it had been her words and her support of him that had caused this. Surely, if he had been capable of unleashing this raw force – she'd heard Edmund refer to it as Narnia's Sword – he would have done it sooner and ended the fight before he had taken such a beating from Miraz, wouldn't he?

_She reached up a hand to caress his sweaty, bruised, and bleeding cheek. He started to pull away, but she wouldn't let him._

"_Kris…stop. You'll get your dress bloody," Peter said softly._

_She frowned at the sight of the blood, and without hesitating, caught up the edge of her sleeve and gently used it to wipe the blood off of his face. "I could care less about my dress, Peter. I'm going to be working with the healers…I'll guarantee you that I'll be covered in blood by the end of the battle."_

"_You need to go back to them, Kris. This is no place for you," Peter said softly._

"_Peter, I am no stranger to a battlefield," she chided him gently. "I was in training to be the Queen of Archenland at one time. Had I actually become their Queen, who do you think would have been leading the army against their enemies?"_

_Peter opened his mouth to respond, but then paused. Apparently, the thought had never occurred to him, since he had never known Archenland to have a ruling Queen before. He'd only known Lune, and now Cor as their ally's monarch._

"_Peter, I didn't come out here to fight in the battle, nor to fight with you," Krisalyn continued. "I came out here because –" she paused, uncertain how to say what needed to be said._

"_Because?" Peter prompted her, glancing over his shoulder at the ruins._

_Krisalyn bit her lip before she answered. "I wanted you to know that I was going to be standing behind you in this, that I support your decision and…I trust you. It – what happened to us, to Narnia – it wasn't your fault, and I'm sorry that it took me so long to admit that. I promised Aslan that I would always support and remain true to you, no matter what trials or blessings we went through. I had no right to believe that you had abandoned us, when you swore you never would. I should have realized that there was something more to your disappearance, but I allowed my anger and bitterness to come between us." She hesitated again, before she continued. "I guess what I am trying to say Peter is that I love you, and I forgive you…and I trust you to come back to me, no matter how far away you may travel, or how long you may be gone."_

He had gone back into the fight with renewed vigor and grace after that, and now she was witnessing…this.

To her relief, Peter triumphed over Miraz. She was about to dismount and go over to him to hug him and congratulate him when chaos broke out. One moment Miraz – whose life had been spared by Caspian – was on his feet with assistance from one of his Marshals, the next he was lying on the ground with one of Susan's arrows buried in his side. Then the Telmarines were racing back to their lines – all except one, who picked up a sword and moved towards Peter while her husband was giving orders to the Narnians.

"Peter!" she screamed. Her husband spun around, raced up to the Telmarine who had so foolishly challenged him, and mercilessly struck him down. Then Caspian was running towards her. Remembering her promise to Peter, she stayed seated on the horse, although she slid back in order to give Caspian room to mount in front of her. Oreius whirled and moved to her side, one of his massive swords unsheathed in his hand.

Caspian reached the horse and flung himself into the saddle, although his foot caught in her skirt and tore it. But that was incidental as she watched Peter and Edmund take up positions at the far side of the ruins, defiantly facing the Telmarines.

"Oreius…" Krisalyn breathed, her heart in her throat.

"All will be well, my Queen. King Peter and King Edmund will not fall." The Centaur's voice was calm and reassuring.

From the Telmarine lines, the catapults began to swing, and a moment later huge boulders began to smash into the earth around the ruins, kicking up dirt and tufts of grass with each impact. Yet Peter and Edmund stood strong and showed no signs of fear as they waited.

_Corin…stop those catapults…please…_

The ground shuddered with each impact, but none of the boulders fell close enough to Peter and Edmund to put them in immediate danger. What had happened? Why hadn't her cousin disabled those catapults?

Her heart was already in her throat, but when she saw the Telmarine cavalry beginning their charge across the field, it leaped into her mouth. She tensed, waiting for Peter to begin the counter-attack, but she didn't know exactly what he was waiting for. The army needed time to respond to his orders.

_Peter…don't wait too long_._ Give them time to react, please._

* * *

_Behind the Telmarine lines…_

Corin fought the urge to curse as the order came down the lines to begin barraging the How with the catapults. It was too soon! His men hadn't had time to make their move, and he didn't have enough men with him to make a full attack against the siege engines.

The plan to replace eight of the Telmarines with their own men in order to get the Mice close enough to sabotage the catapults had actually started to go off without a hitch. Eight of the Telmarines had fallen to swift, silent arrows or dagger strikes – clean and quick. Eight of Corin's men, with the Mice clinging to their backs, underneath the armor had taken their places, very casually. But before the Mice could slip out to work their sabotage, the order had come – and all his men could do was obey unless they wanted to raise suspicions.

"What shall we do, Highness?" Peepiceek asked in his high-pitched voice.

"We wait. They'll have to stop the bombardment before their cavalry gets in range, or they risk hitting their own men."

"Yes, sir," the Mouse said unhappily.

But it was hard, watching his men – helpless to stop the bombardment, short of ordering an attack – firing on their allies. All he could do was wait and pray that something would happen to allow them to take those siege engines out. The last thing that he had wanted to do was to have his men attacking the Narnians – the very people they were here to aid.

"Your Highness! A message from Queen Susan and King Cor!" One of the men raced up, leading Pattertwig the Squirrel to where Cor and Peepiceek stood. The Squirrel was clutching a rolled up scroll in one paw, and he offered it to Corin with a bow.

Corin took the scroll and unrolled it, scanning the contents quickly. His frown deepened as he read the missive. He scanned the Telmarines as he looked up from the notice. The only way King Edmund could have known about this Lord Sopespian was if he had been one of the men who had been acting as Miraz's Marshals. He had seen two men fleeing back to the lines, but he hadn't gotten a good look at them because he'd been trying to get his eight men into place.

Where were those two men? One of them had to be Lord Sopespian.

Corin quickly came to the conclusion that – if Lord Sopespian was still somewhere along the lines – he wouldn't be able to find him from his vantage point. He crumpled the missive in his hand. There were too many men between him and the front of the lines. He looked back at Pattertwig. "Take word back to Queen Susan. I'll see to taking care of Lord Sopespian. I believe he is here, among the commanders."

Pattertwig nodded. "Yes, sir. Yes, right away!" With that, the Squirrel turned and scampered back up into the trees, heading in the direction of the How by moving along the edge of the meadow.

* * *

Peter watched the Telmarine cavalry as they raced down the field. He had to wait until they reached the right spot, or else the trap would be sprung too early. There was a large rock on the field that had been marked as the indicator point. The markings were only visible from the Narnian side of the field. They'd run tests – as much as they could without actually springing the trap – to perfect the timing, and when the lead Telmarine reached that boulder, Peter would give the order.

_Wait…wait…_

He glanced over at Edmund. He really did need to speak to his brother about his loyalty and steadiness. Ever since Beruna, his brother had always stood beside him, defending him, steadying him with the calm assurance he was known for. For that, the Narnians had referred to their Just King as the High King's Shield. Since Beruna, Edmund's loyalty had been unwavering. They would stand together today as they always had – and Aslan willing, they would triumph.

He looked back at the enemy and saw that they had just reached the rock. He turned sharply and gave the signal to Caspian and Oreius. They wheeled around immediately and headed back into the How. Peter looked back at their enemy, squinting against a cloud of dirt that was kicked up by a catapult shot that landed a bit too close for comfort.

"Peter?" Edmund had extracted Lucy's cordial from his belt and was holding the little bottle in his hand. "Will you please take this? I'm worried about your arm."

Peter hesitated. Lucy's cordial – a gift from Father Christmas – was rare and non-renewable. When it was gone, it was gone. Even though it only took a drop to cure wounds, every drop diminished it that much more. That was why, after the first battle of Beruna, Peter had requested that Lucy only use it on critical injuries. He had known his sister's large, caring heart would lead her to use it on any injured soldier that she could.

But he also couldn't deny the fact that his arm was very sore, and it would only get worse the longer the battle dragged on. He was lucky that he was able to use it at all at the moment. If it got much worse, he would have difficulty wielding his sword. He could already feel some stiffness setting in. "All right," he finally said with a nod, extending his hand for the bottle.

Edmund appeared surprised that he had agreed so readily, but he quickly uncapped the bottle and gave it to Peter, who carefully swallowed a single drop before he passed it back to Edmund. Almost immediately, he felt the stiffness in his shoulder and the aches along the rest of his body fade.

A horn call sounded beneath his feet, indicating that the army, led by Caspian and Oreius, had begun their charge and were about to make their move to spring the trap.

"One…two…three…"

* * *

Caspian saw the High King give the signal and immediately wheeled his horse and kicked it forward. He felt the High Queen wrap her arms around his waist as the stallion surged forward. Generals Oreius and Glenstorm were right behind him as they raced down the ramp.

"Be ready, Your Majesty!" Caspian cried, shifting the reins into his left hand and wrapping his right hand around the Queen's wrist. He felt her shift her grip to his wrist as well, just as they reached the end of the ramp and entered the main chamber.

"Now, Majesty!" Caspian yelled as he pulled his horse up to a slower speed before they crashed headlong into the waiting troops. His horse slowed, iron-shod hooves skidding on the smooth stone for a moment and almost sitting back on it's haunches. Caspian leaned back and braced himself in the saddle as the Queen swung her leg over the stallion's back and jumped, surrendering her weight to the strength of Caspian's arm.

He tightened his grip as his horse regained it's balance, and lowered the High Queen down to the stone. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she released her grip and he let go of her wrist. She landed and her knees bent to take the impact so that she wouldn't fall. He watched her just long enough to make sure that she hadn't been hurt by the maneuver before he turned his attention back to the troops that were waiting. He grabbed a torch off the wall and turned his horse in a tight circle. "Narnians, charge!" He kicked the stallion again and sent him through the side tunnel that would lead out into the main passage beneath the ruins.

With a cry, the waiting army turned and followed Caspian and the two Centaur Generals as they raced down the tunnel. Only the swiftest and strongest Narnians had been selected for this ambush, because they needed to be able to outrun the trap when it was sprung. Caspian signaled a Centaur running beside him as they reached the first marked pillar that indicated that they were directly beneath the ruins. The Centaur raised a horn to his lips and blew a trumpet call.

"One…two…three…four…five…"

* * *

"Six…seven…eight…nine…get ready!" Peter called.

Edmund shifted his weight and started to draw one of his swords from it's sheath, then noticed a crossbow that had been abandoned by the Telmarines, along with a horse that had either belonged to Miraz, or to the man Peter had killed a few moments ago. He released his sword and reached for the crossbow instead. For this ambush to work, speed and accuracy would be more important than holding the line, and he had an idea.

He glanced at his brother. The cordial had obviously helped, since Peter was standing straighter and he wasn't favoring his arm any longer. A determined look had settled on his face, and a steely look was in his blue eyes as the catapults eased up on their bombardment. The last thing the Telmarines would want would be to attack their own troops by mistake.

Edmund felt the ground rumble under his feet as the Narnians following Caspian began to spring the trap. Right now, they would be knocking out the most strategically placed pillars that supported the tunnels and cave system beneath the field. When enough of them were knocked down, the tunnels would cave in, neutralizing the enemy's charge.

He saw one of the Telmarine horses stumble on an uneven patch of ground, followed by another and another. It was working! He glanced back at Peter and saw him visibly cringe, just as screams from the Telmarines and shrieks from the horses heralded the collapse of the ground beneath them.

"Peter?" Edmund took a half-step closer. "What's wrong?" His brother shouldn't be in pain, not after taking Lucy's cordial.

Peter literally squeezed his eyes shut and panted for a moment, as if he was fighting back pain. "Damn," the High King breathed between clenched teeth.

"Peter?" Now Edmund was really worried and trying to fight back panic. His brother should not be hurting, unless he had been wounded somewhere else since he had taken the cordial…but how could _that_ have happened without Edmund knowing about it?

"I'm all right," Peter managed, opening his eyes and straightening back up as his breathing suddenly calmed. Shifting his grip on Rhindon, he raised the blade as Caspian, Oreius, and Glenstorm – having split up – emerged from three carefully concealed ramps on the far side of the collapse, the rest of the Narnian ambush force following them as they swerved to flank the cavalry that had avoided the collapsing ground.

"Peter…"

"I promise, I'm all right, Ed," Peter tossed him a quick smile to reassure him. Then he raised Rhindon above his head and brought the blade down. "Charge!" He began to run for the edge of the crater that had opened, leading the rest of the Narnians towards their enemies.

Arrows whistled by overhead, falling to land among the crater and the riders that had fallen inside. Susan's archers were attacking calmly and methodically, while the disorganized and panicked cavalry did their best to avoid the unerringly accurate shots. Their confidence in their abilities had evaporated, and they were only a few steps shy of complete panic.

Edmund split off from Peter and ran towards the horse. With one smooth leap, he was in the saddle and had caught up the reins in his left hand. Kicking the horse sharply, he urged it forward, towards the crater, even as he used his right hand to arm the crossbow.

His mount was frightened and his strides were choppy. At that moment, Edmund missed Philip and his calm steadiness with a sharp intensity, but he thanked the Talking Horse – wherever he might be – profusely in his mind for teaching him how to ride. He quickly got the Telmarine horse under control, before he raised the crossbow and began picking out targets.

His world narrowed to an awareness of his mount, the Telmarines he was aiming at, and out of the corner of his eye, his brother. Peter was leading the battle, and Edmund needed to be watching for his commands. There was still a long way to go, provided that Aslan, Lucy, and Aislynn didn't return soon.

* * *

Cor raised his hand, signaling his men to hold their position. It was hard – they had come to fight, to aid their Narnian allies – but it wasn't time yet. The collapse of the tunnels had checked the cavalry, but the infantry was still vast, and could still come into play. _That_ would be the moment that they would advance.

The catapults were firing with less regularity now, since the Telmarine commanders would not want to hit their own forces. He didn't know what had kept his twin from taking out the catapults, but he did know that Corin would not stop until he had found a way to come through for them.

His men shifted restlessly again, but held their position, waiting for his signal. They were disciplined and reliable, but they were used to meeting their opponents openly, not waiting in ambush. Cor knew they would do as they were commanded, no matter how hard or unusual their orders.

Cor shifted his position to watch the Telmarines, waiting for them to send their infantry in. It would have to come soon – the Narnian strategy had devastated the cavalry, while taking few losses themselves. The few riders that had escaped the collapse were pinned on the far side of the crater by Queen Susan's archers, while Caspian's flanking attack kept them from retreating back to their own lines.

_Give the order…_he thought fiercely at the Telmarines' commander. _Send them in!_

* * *

_Elsewhere…_

Aislynn looked around in delight as the forest continued to come to life from the sound of Aslan's roar. All around them, the dryads and other spirits were awakening. It was beautiful and magical as they raced along, falling in with Aslan as he carried them swiftly to a destination that only he knew.

"Why did all of the dryads go to sleep?" Aislynn asked over the sound of their singing and calls of welcome. That was something that she had not understood.

"Fear," Aslan's deep voice rumbled in response. "They sought only to protect themselves from the Telmarines."

"But they play an important role in Narnia's survival," Lucy added. "It is due to them and their care for all living things that allows Narnia to be so bountiful. Once things are settled and they resume their tasks, you won't believe how beautiful Narnia will become."

Aislynn already thought that Narnia was beautiful – how could the awakened dryads make her any more so? She couldn't imagine it. She just wished that she could see the woods with both eyes. The right side of her face was swollen and aching, and her eye had swelled shut, but she wasn't going to complain. After all, her face would heal, and the important thing was that she was alive.

Aslan continued to race through the trees until they came to the Great River at Beruna. The Telmarine camp on the far side of the River was quiet, now that the bridge had been completed. Aslan ran across the bridge before he stopped along the river bank. Without being told, Lucy and Aislynn slid off his back. A low, rumbling growl came from the Lion's throat as he lowered his head towards the water. The water began vibrating madly as the air rushed over it from the force of that growl.

Aislynn looked over at her aunt. "What's he doing?" she whispered.

Lucy only shook her head. "One never knows with Aslan," the Valiant Queen replied.

Aislynn turned back in time to see a watery head emerge from the gently flowing river. "Hail, Lord," the river-god spoke in a surprisingly deep voice. "I would rise to greet you properly, but that bridge chains me down."

"Before the day ends, your chains shall be loosed loyal son," Aslan assured him. "We shall need your aid to retake Narnia."

"I am ever yours to command, Great Aslan," the river-god replied solemnly.

Aslan shook his head and his golden mane bounced around his face before he turned towards them. "You two shall also have a task to end this war."

"What must we do, Aslan," Lucy asked, trustingly.

"You will know when the time comes, dear one," Aslan replied with a small smile.

Aislynn looked around as best she could with only one good eye and paused. "Where did all of the dryads go?"

"To the aid of the High King and his allies," Aslan responded. "They know what they must do, just as you shall know when it is time for you to act."

* * *

_Aslan's How…_

The ambush and the archers had done a magnificent job checking the cavalry and devastating them before they could bring their full force against the Narnians, but there were still a few riders attacking the Narnians, and a few who had survived the collapse. Caspian freed his left foot from the stirrup and kicked out, catching a Telmarine rider across the face before the man could pull him out of the saddle and claim his horse. The man reeled back, hands instinctively reaching for his broken nose, and Caspian followed up on the kick with his sword, eliminating another enemy.

Later, when this battle was over, he knew he'd be appalled by the number of his own countrymen that he'd killed, but now was not the time to think about it.

_They made the choice to fight,_ he told himself. _They could have chosen to lay down their arms when King Peter defeated Miraz, but they didn't. That makes them our enemies. If I don't fight and kill, they won't hesitate to kill us._

A boulder _**thudded**_ into the ground near him and his horse shied. Caspian turned the stallion in a tight circle to bring him back under control before he looked toward the How. He spotted Roran standing on the crown of the hill, wings spread and waving in the breeze. He raised his sword and gestured with it, and heard a gryphonic scream in response before Roran leapt into the sky.

Moments later, dozens of gryphons filled the sky, heading towards the Telmarine lines with their burdens of archers or boulders. The catapults continued to aim at the gryphons, but the rocks were too slow and the skilled flyers dodged them easily. Caspian looked towards the Telmarine lines and saw they were readying the ballistae. He knew how dangerous those spear-throwers were, and he prayed that Prince Corin had been able to do something to disable them.

But nothing happened. Caspian swung his sword down and took out another enemy before he looked back at the lines. The Telmarines were milling around and the spears sticking out at odd angles, jammed inside the launchers. Something had gone wrong – and it left and opening for the gryphons carrying rocks to take out the catapults.

The Narnians roared as they saw two of the catapults destroyed under rocks thrown by the gryphons. Caspian smiled grimly. If they could keep this up, they might have a chance of winning this war, despite their smaller numbers,

His confidence evaporated as he saw the infantry begin to march.

* * *

It wasn't working. Their plan to take out the siege engines had only been partially successful, although with the ballistae out of the picture, the gryphons had a clear line of fire to take out the catapults with their rocky weapons. The gryphons were agile enough to dodge arrows and boulders all day long.

But Corin and his men couldn't do any good back among the Telmarine lines anymore. With the infantry moving forward, it was time for a strategic retreat.

Corin turned to his captain. "Sound the retreat. We'll fall back and rejoin my brother and his men. The Telmarines won't have time to react to realizing that we're here before we're gone."

"Sire, what about King Edmund's message?" the captain asked. "The Lord Sopespian?"

Corin clenched his teeth at the reminder. He knew the man had to be out there somewhere, most likely among the commanders, but there were still too many men for them to make an attack from the rear right now. "We cannot do anything about him. We'll have to rejoin my brother and hope someone else takes him out, or that he is arrested and brought to trial later, once the battle is over. Sound the retreat."

"Yes, Your Highness," the captain replied. Raising his horn to his lips, he blew the quick series of notes that would tell their men to fall back and circle around, including the eight men and Mice who were stationed near the catapults.

As soon as the notes left the horn, the eight infiltrators broke away from their posts and sprinted towards the tree line. Startled and confused, the Telmarines couldn't react in time to stop them and they made it safely into the trees where they grabbed their waiting horses and joined the rest of Corin's men in their mad dash through the trees back to Cor's forces.

* * *

_**Right slash, left slash, duck, pivot, kick…**_

Peter was moving completely by instinct and a supreme awareness of himself, his sword, and his surroundings as he cut a swathe through the Telmarines who were beginning to scramble out of the collapsed ground. Lucy's cordial had healed his wounds, but it hadn't restored his energy. The only way he was able to function was by not thinking, just acting. If he allowed himself to feel the exhaustion, it would paralyze him.

_**Upper block, twist, stab, leap…**_he quickly raised his armored gauntlet to catch a sword coming down at his head, missing the protection of his shield. _**High block, low block, slash left, stab, duck…**_

An eagle's scream from overhead made him look up to see the gryphons sailing by with their rocks and archers. He followed them with his eyes as they soared toward the enemy lines. A few arrows and boulders headed their way, but the gryphons avoided those weapons with ease as they launched their attack, taking out two of the Telmarine catapults and a host of Telmarine soldiers.

As the gryphons carrying the Dwarf archers continued to circle and harass the enemy, those who ha carried rocks banked elegantly and came back to pick up another load for a second attack run. Thanks to the preparations that Lucy had made before leaving to go find Aslan, a small horde of boulders had been stockpiled for the gryphons to use in the attack, and several of the younger Narnians had been positioned at the top of the How with extra quivers of arrows for the archers to reload when they ran out.

Peter turned his attention back to his own battles. He saw Trufflehunter lunge at a Telmarine that was starting to clamber out of the collapse, before he pivoted sharply and sliced another Telmarine across the chest.

"Your Majesty! Duck!"

Peter turned and ducked as a blade narrowly missed his head. Before he could straighten, he felt something impact his shoulders and use them as a springboard. A moment later, the Telmarine was down, bleeding from a wound in his throat caused by a Mouse-sized rapier.

Reepicheep sprang off the dead Telmarine, and ran up to the edge of the collapse after another Telmarine. The Telmarines took one look at Reepicheep and stammered, "You're a – a Mouse!"

"You people have no imagination!" Reepicheep declared before finishing him off. Then he was off again.

"Reepicheep, come back you little ass!" Peter cried as he countered another attack. "You'll only get yourself killed!"

A horn sounded from the direction of the Telmarine lines, and Peter quickly dispatched his enemy before turning to look at the Telmarine infantry approaching. They held tight formation as they began their advance. He looked around at the battles raging around him. Caspian was nearby, still mounted on his horse. Edmund was on the opposite side of the crater, also mounted, circling the edge of the collapse and using a crossbow to shoot at any Telmarine that managed to reach the edge. Oreius and Glenstorm were fighting side by side about fifty paces away, and as he watched they wheeled, perfectly synchronized and ready to charge another group of Telmarines that were trying to regroup.

But the infantry was moving in, which meant it was time to set up Cor's flanking ambush. Peter smiled grimly. The Telmarines were playing right into their plans, first by sending in the cavalry, and now by advancing all of their infantry at once, instead of in waves. He didn't know who was commanding them, but whoever it was, was not thinking strategically. From what Caspian had told him of General Glozelle, Peter would have expected a more detailed and complex plan from him. But this was simply straight on attacking – which probably meant that someone else was leading the battle, someone with no military experience. Peter, on the other hand, had led plenty of battles and knew that there were multiple ways to win rather than relying solely on strength of numbers.

Raising his sword, Peter gave the signal. "Back to the How!"

The Narnians had been waiting for his command, and they played their parts perfectly. Feigning fear at the sight of the superior force marching towards them, they turned and fled, racing back to the How. Caspian and Edmund turned their mounts and ran towards the Narnians who were still fighting to help them break away. Oreius and Glenstorm ran through the retreating Narnians, coming up to flank Peter as he brought up the rear.

_Please be ready Cor…_

There was a shattering crash from behind him and a sharp stab of pain went through him just as a piece of the ruins flew past them and slammed into the stone framework of the entrance to the How. The doorway began to collapse, just as a Faun and a Minotaur were dragging some wounded Narnians through to the healers. Peter watched in horror as the stone fell directly on top of them, crushing them beneath its weight.

Fear raced through him for a moment. _Kris!_ She was trapped inside the How. It was an instinctive response and he fought it down as Edmund and Caspian joined him. She wasn't trapped. There were plenty of secret exits out of the How, and as long as the Telmarines didn't learn about them, she was actually safer inside the How.

He wished he could do something for the Narnians trapped beneath the debris, but not even Lucy's cordial could save them from the weight of thousands of pounds of stone. After this was over, they would be dug out and given a proper burial, and they would be honored at the memorial vigil of course, but for now there was nothing they could do. Now he had to make sure that their lives had not been given in vain.

A cracking noise from above drew his gaze upward in time to see the archers' ledge crumbling with the weight no longer supported by the stone doorway. The archers were scrambling backward, away from the edge of the upper level.

"Brace yourselves!" Susan was yelling as a tree behind her began to fall, its roots torn free of the collapsing stone. A moment later, she screamed as the stone beneath her feet gave way and she fell.

"Susan!" Edmund's voice mingled with Peter's as they both screamed their sister's name. Peter had a sudden flash of seeing his sister's crumpled form lying on the rocks below her and he watched, horrified, as she fell.

But Trumpkin suddenly lunged and caught Susan's wrist, holding her long enough to swing her over to where the rubble from the doorway formed a ramp to the ground before he released her. She only fell two feet before she touched the makeshift ramp and steadied herself. She looked back at Trumpkin and waved before she turned and began climbing down to the ground.

Peter looked around them. Edmund stood on his right, Caspian on his left. Both of them had their swords out. Glenstorm, Oreius, and the rest of the Narnians flanked the three of them, before Susan pushed her way forward and came to stand beside them. In front of them, the Telmarine army marched forward in perfect unison.

"I think they expect us to be intimidated, Peter," Edmund said wryly, a small smile on his face.

"Are you?" Peter asked, a smile quirking the corner of his lips.

Edmund tipped his head to the side, considering. "Not really, no. You?"

"Not a chance," Peter replied. "Caspian, what about you?"

"Nope."

"Susan?"

The Gentle Queen shook her head. "No." She looked at her brothers. "Cor is waiting for the signal."

Peter nodded. "I know." He looked around at everyone again. "Shall we show them that we do not fear them?"

Oreius stomped one hoof. The General was bleeding from a gash on his flank, and one on his shoulder, but he was still full of fire and energy. "We are with you, my King. To the death."

Glenstorm nodded in agreement. He also had a gash on his arm and one on his cheek. "To the death."

"Peter, let's show them why Narnia's Sword and Shield never yield," Edmund said with a feral grin.

"Agreed." Peter raised his sword and lowered it, before he began running towards the oncoming infantry. They were almost in range for the ambush from Cor's men – but they had to make it look as if they were making their last, desperate stand to lure them in. Without hesitation, the rest of the Narnians fell in behind him as they charged.

Peter kicked off a piece of debris and used his momentum to kick a soldier in the chest, before he brought his sword down and ended the man's life. Next to him, Edmund was slashing about with both of his short swords, and Caspian was protecting Susan to give her time to employ her bow. His sister was making keen use of her weapon, firing arrows as she ran.

But the Telmarines were pressing in – and there were so many that it was all they could do to keep from being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers.

_**Upper slash, block, twist, cut. Duck, lower cut, stab, spin. Left slice, right slash, reverse and thrust.**_

One motion blurred into the next as Peter fought to get to the higher ground and give the signal to Cor. Overhead, the gryphons were wheeling, still carrying the archers who were now having to pick their shots more carefully, since the Narnians were more mingled in with the Telmarine forces.

Finally, he reached a bit of the crumbled ruins and leaped on top. Raising his sword in the air, he cried out. "For Narnia and for Aslan!"

The Narnians roared and redoubled their efforts, even as a trumpet blast sounded from the woods – the rallying cry of the Archenland army. From among the trees, Cor led his forces to their aid, moving to flank the Telmarine infantry. His two hundred cavalry raced out, looping around behind the Telmarines and cutting off their retreat, while the Archenland infantry – sapphire and silver banners flying – moved in from the side to plow a course straight through the Telmarine formations.

Complete panic ensued. The Telmarines had not been expecting a second ambush from their rear, and they had no idea what they should do. Some of them turned to fight Cor's army, leaving them vulnerable to the Narnians, while others continued to move after Peter and his small band in the center of the field, leaving them open to attack from the cavalry that was cutting through them.

"For Aslan!" Peter roared again. A Faun nearby grabbed his horn and winded it. The Narnian's battle fanfare echoed and the Narnians responded immediately, tightening their own formations and moving towards the enemy troops that were now caught between a rock and a hard place.

Peter leaped off the rocks and moved back in to join them. He spotted Edmund and fought his way to his brother's side.

"Side to side, Peter?" Edmund asked as he reached him.

"And back to back," Peter confirmed. "Just as Oreius taught us." He jumped over a sword aimed at his legs, pushing Edmund out of the blade's path with his shoulder.

"Duck!" Edmund called, swiping his sword in a circle over both their heads as Peter dropped obediently, and separating another man's head from his body.

Peter straightened, turned, and moved to defend his brother's left, as Edmund advanced on a huddle of Telmarines who were trying to form a phalanx with their shields. But there weren't enough of them to block the whirling silver blades of the High King's Shield, and they fell like so many of the others who had dared to stand against the Just and Magnificent Kings in battle.

But even as he defended Edmund, Peter couldn't help but wonder where Lucy and Aislynn were. They had been gone far too long.

_Aslan, please…protect my family. Don't let anything happen to them. We fight in your name, and we need you, Great Lion. Help us._

* * *

Caspian had been separated from Queen Susan in the fight. Apparently, whoever was commanding the Telmarines had instructed them to make sure he died, since he had noticed that more and more of them were coming after him. Queen Susan had managed to clear a wide circle around herself with her bow, and she had several of the Dwarves guarding her beyond the perimeter she'd established for herself, giving her even more time to employ her deadly accuracy with her chosen weapon.

Out of the corner of his eye, Caspian spotted Trumpkin being assailed by two Telmarines. One of them bashed the Dwarf across the face with the flat of his blade and Trumpkin went down. The Telmarine stood over him, ready to end the Dwarf's life.

_No!_ Caspian was not going to watch one of his few friends go down. Grabbing for his dagger, he ripped it out of the sheath, tossed it into the air and caught it by the tip, then side-armed it straight into the neck of Trumpkin's attacker. As the man went down, Trumpkin scrambled to his feet. But Caspian had to turn his attention immediately back to his own battles as two of the men ganged up on him. They were careful to stay on opposite sides of him – if he turned to face one, the other would attack from his blind side. Together, they forced him back to the edge of the collapsed earth, before they struck.

He tried to dodge, but tripped on a bit of crumbling ground and felt his center of balance shift backward. He couldn't stop his fall as he went heels over head backward into the crater and landed hard on his back. His sword flew out of his hand and he scrambled backward as a Minotaur nearly stepped on him as it chased a Telmarine down.

A few feet away, a Telmarine ripped a long spear out of the body of one of the Narnians and turned towards Caspian. Caspian scrambled backwards further, looking frantically for his sword. The hilt was only a foot away from his right hand, but he didn't dare take his eyes off of his new attacker – whom he recognized as Glozelle.

The General was about to bury the spear in his chest when he suddenly realized who he was facing – and miraculously, the spear paused before it embedded itself.

"General?" Caspian ventured, cautiously. "You're not going to kill me, are you?" He was barely breathing, trying not to provoke the man.

"Caspian?" Glozelle asked. Blood was running down his face from a cut above his left eye. He blinked, but didn't lower the weapon.

"General, please, stop this," Caspian said quietly. "All of this…everything that has happened, is because of the greed of two men. But we can stop it – together, we can bring peace back to Narnia and her people.

"I must serve my people – I must do what is right for them," Glozelle replied. "I served the wrong ruler all of these years, but now I must do my best for them."

"Then help me," Caspian pleaded. "Call off your men; help me save their lives. The Narnians are not the beasts that we've always believed. They are people, like you and I, just with different forms, and they are honorable and wise, as are their Kings and Queens."

Slowly, Glozelle began to lower the spear, and Caspian pressed his advantage. "You were my teacher, General. I know you are an honorable man. Whatever hold my uncle had over you has ended with his death. I do not blame you for your actions. The army will listen to you. Help me call them off."

The spear tip lowered further, but before Glozelle could put it all the way down, a great root burst through the ground behind him, wrapped itself around the General's waist, and yanked him off his feet. The spear fell to the ground as the General was slammed back into the rock behind him and went limp, before the root dropped him to land on the ground.

Startled, Caspian looked up to see a great tree moving across the field. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed his sword, and hurried over to his former teacher, checking to make sure he wasn't badly hurt.

Fortunately, the General had simply been knocked unconscious. Letting out a slow breath of relief, Caspian quickly disarmed the man and dragged him into shelter, where he would be out of sight and safe until all of the wounded and dead were removed from the battlefield.

Then he climbed up the slope and met King Peter's shining blue eyes. The High King offered him a hand up and Caspian accepted it. As he stepped out onto level ground, he looked around in awe at the sight of the massive trees that were wading across the battlefield, their roots and branches seizing the panicked Telmarines and slamming them to the ground or tossing them aside.

Alongside, were what appeared to be bunches of leaves and flower petals blowing in the wind. They enveloped the Telmarines and prevented them from seeing where they were going, which usually caused them to trip and fall. Caspian had never seen anything like it.

"What in the…"

"Lucy. Somehow, she and Aislynn found Aslan and awakened the Dryads," Peter said with a smile. "Now, they're fighting back."

"Well, then we should go and help them, should we not?" Caspian asked, returning the smile, even though he couldn't take his eyes away from the trees and the Dryads."

"Yes, we should," Peter agreed. "Narnia! To me!" he yelled, raising his voice above the screams of the Telmarines.

The Narnians rallied at the cry, reforming their lines and chasing the Telmarines back across the field. Cor's men moved to herd them, funneling them straight back across the field and preventing them from breaking off to reform the line and run a flanking maneuver of their own.

Meanwhile, the Trees were taking care of the rest of the catapults, their great roots swimming through the earth to emerge, wrap around the catapults, and bring them crashing to the ground. The Telmarines were terrified of the trees and were in full retreat, with Peter's army hot on their heels.

Edmund fell into stride beside his brother, his twin swords out as he ran. "They're heading for Beruna! If they make it across the Ford, they'll reclaim the advantage. They'll be able to turn and pick us off while we try to cross!"

"Then we'll have to catch them before they get there!" Peter yelled back. "Narnia! For Aslan! Centaurs, Cats, and Wolves! Chase them down! Do not let them reach the river!"

Cries of acknowledgement answered him and the fastest runners of the Narnian army sprinted ahead, trying to reach the lead Telmarines before they could make it to the riverbanks.

"Cor! Take your cavalry and cut them off!" Peter cried as the Archenland King galloped up behind him on his chestnut warhorse.

"As good as done, High King!" Cor replied. With a cry, he gathered his riders and spurred his horse ahead, following the fleet-footed Narnians.

As they ran, they cut down many of the Telmarines, who were finished off by the foot soldiers running behind them, but Peter realized that despite their speed, the Narnians and their allies were not going to make it. The Telmarines had too great a head start and if the Narnians tried to get ahead of them, they would be trapped with their backs to the river and no escape.

"Fall back!" Peter called. "Narnia, reform the lines!" He waved at one of the gryphons circling overhead. "Roron, fly ahead, tell Cor and the others to back off, but remain in pursuit!"

A scream of acknowledgement came from Roron before the gryphon's wings clawed at the air for height and he shot forward into the sky, weaving among the trees.

"Peter, we can't beat them if they make it across the bridge first. They'll have the advantage when we try to cross!" Susan called, one hand holding her bow, the other hand holding up her skirt so she could run.

"Lucy awakened the Dryads," Peter called back around his harsh breathing. "Maybe she got to the Naiads too! They'll be able to prevent the Telmarines from crossing!"

* * *

Lucy heard horns coming from the trees across the river. She looked up at Aslan, who also seemed to have heard the sound. "Is that them, Aslan?"

The great Lion nodded. "Yes, dearest. It is almost time for you and Aislynn to end this war."

Lucy stood up from the rocky shoreline and helped Aislynn to her feet. The princess' face was still badly swollen and she could still only see out of one eye, but that eye held a fire and determination in it that reminded Lucy sharply of Peter when he was determined to give no quarter. If nothing else, Aislynn certainly was her father's daughter, and Lucy knew she would make a great Queen of Narnia when her time to claim the throne came.

As the first of the Telmarines broke through the trees, Aslan looked at Lucy. "Now, Valiant Queen."

Lucy nodded and stepped up to the bridge. Aslan had not given them any instructions about what they were to do, but that didn't matter. She trusted him to guide her in what was needed. Aislynn was right beside her as they walked in step up to the bridge and on, where they stopped, the two of them barring the way.

The Telmarines came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the two of them blocking the way. They milled about as the Narnians broke through the lines, and Lucy was relieved to see both of her brothers and Susan at the front of the lines with Caspian, Glenstorm, and Oreius.

"He's all right," Aislynn whispered, looking at her father.

"It would take more than this to stop Peter," Lucy assured her. Then she faced the Telmarines again and took another step forward, drawing her dagger. "Men of Telmar! I am Queen Lucy of Narnia. I order you to lower your weapons and surrender to the Narnian forces!" She used all of the speaking skills that she had learned from her oration tutor all those years ago, and her voice carried easily across the river. "In the name of Aslan, drop your weapons!"

* * *

"Lucy…" Susan breathed. "What are you doing?"

Peter felt the same as he caught sight of his daughter and his little sister standing on the far side of the bridge, alone, armed only with their daggers. There was no way the Telmarines would surrender to the two of them – especially now that Lucy had identified herself, they would know that she was a valuable hostage.

He tightened his grip on Rhindon, fighting down the urge to slash his way through the Telmarines and race to his daughter's side. He was _not _going to lose her now!

"Men of Telmar! This is your last warning!" Lucy's clear, sweet voice was firm. "Throw down your weapons and your lives will be spared!"

Lord Sopespian was mounted on his horse at the front of the Telmarines, staring at Lucy and Aislynn. He turned in his saddle to look at the Narnians, and Peter saw his gaze alight on them. Then he turned back to look at Lucy – and Peter's eyes widened in surprise as he saw Aslan pace gravely up to stand between Lucy and Aislynn. Peter wanted to order Susan to shoot him, but he couldn't order her to outright assassinate the man when there was a chance he would surrender.

"Lucy, you did it!" Edmund whispered. "You are amazing!"

But it seemed that Lord Sopespian was not willing to give up on his bid to claim Narnia for himself – not when all that stood in his way were two young women and a single lion. Of course, he had no idea that by challenging the Lion, he was sealing his own doom. With a cry, he spurred his horse forward. "Take the Queen alive, but kill the others!"

_Aislynn! No!_ Peter thought, preparing to step forward, only to feel Edmund seize him.

"It's all right, Peter! Aslan will protect them!"

Peter tensed, but didn't try to break Edmund's grip as he watched the Telmarine officers race down the bridge while some of the men began fording the river.

Before they were halfway across, Aslan suddenly roared, the sound shattering the air and bringing the Telmarines to a dead halt at the center of the bridge. Then…

Peter honestly couldn't believe what he was seeing as the water slowly began to recede. Further upriver, near the closest bend, the water was swirling and gathering as if it was alive. He had seen the river god before, many times, in fact…but never like this.

Drawing from the river itself, the river god swelled to the size of a Giant, and kept growing until Peter was willing to swear that he was almost the size of Cair Paravel. The river god, father of all the Naiads in Narnia, was an awe-inspiring sight, even for someone who was used to the magic of the nature spirits of the blessed land. Then, he charged, streaming down the river banks, gathering speed as he went, until he reached the bridge. And because he was made entirely of water, when he hit the bridge, it was the same as if a tsunami had struck it.

Boards and pieces of the bridge flew everywhere as he crashed into the bridge. The Telmarines were fleeing in panic, trying to get up onto the shore and out of the way – but it was far too late for the ones on the bridge, and they were forced to leap into the river in their desperate flight. With a tremendous yank, the river-god lifted the bridge and it's moorings free and held it in the air.

Most of the Telmarines had gotten off the bridge in time, but Lord Sopespian was trapped. The river god studied him for a moment before the full force of his magic and power crashed into the bridge, obliterating it completely and sending the debris back into the river, which swelled angrily as if in flood, washing many of the Telmarines and their horses away.

Peter looked around and shook his head in disbelief. It was over. Narnia was free again.

* * *

**_Don't forget to leave me a review!_**


	33. Chapter 32: Aftermath

_Author's Note: I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I've been working on it ever since the last update, but I just could not get it to where I wanted it to be. However, to make up for the delay, it is the longest chapter to date, coming in at a whopping 43 pages! I had no idea how much I had actually written until I broke up my main document into a separate one for posting purposes. I hope you enjoy this incredibly long chapter, and don't forget to read and review! Also, thanks to **TaraB**, **Elizabeth Zara**, and **beloveddaughteroftheking**, It's great to see you on the review board, and I hope you enjoy this and continue reading!_

* * *

_**Chapter Thirty-Two:**__** Aftermath**_

_Beruna…_

The Telmarines gripped their weapons uneasily, trapped between the Narnian army and the swollen river that was slowly dying down. None of them wished to challenge the river again though, out of fear that another mighty flood would cascade and wash them away with so many of their unfortunate fellows. They were leaderless and on the verge of panic. What had been a sure victory for them had turned into a devastating defeat.

Caspian looked at the two Kings who stood next to him. "What do we do now?"

Peter and Edmund exchanged looks before they looked at him. It was Peter who spoke. "You are their Prince and rightful King, Caspian. It is you who must order them to stand down."

Caspian swallowed nervously. He had very little experience in dealing with the army, and he had no reason to believe that they would listen to him. "You and King Edmund have more authority than I…"

Peter shook his head. "Caspian, you can do this. They are your people, and if you do not learn to command them _now_, you will never win their allegiance and you may have to deal with more insurrection in the future."

Caspian still felt very uncertain. "But if they don't listen…"

"They will, Caspian," Edmund said. "They're leaderless, and now you must step forward. Most of those men have no idea that the reason they were fighting and dying was because of the greed of your uncle and Lord Sopespian. They were only following orders. We'll support you, but you have to be the one. We're legendary figures from their past, and we have no legitimate authority over them as far as they are concerned, no matter what Aslan would say on the matter."

Caspian swallowed back his nerves and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. He took a deep breath before he stepped forward. As soon as he did, the Telmarines turned their attention to him, nervously, as if they were expecting him to order the Narnians to continue their attack and massacre them.

"Men of Telmar!" He could see them shift nervously, uncertain how they should react to this. "As your Prince and rightful King, I order you to stand down! Surrender your weapons peacefully and you will not be harmed!"

He saw the looks exchanged by several of the men and knew that they were hesitant to obey because they still believed the lies that had been spun by Miraz and Sopespian, plus they feared the Narnians and their bestial forms. He had to reassure them, or they would never obey, and might continue their attack out of pure fear. "You have been lied to, used and pulled into a completely unnecessary war, all because of the greed of my uncle and Lord Sopespian. No matter what you may have heard, I never acted against the interests of my people. I was forced to flee from my home in the middle of the night when my uncle ordered the palace guards to kill me while I slept. The Narnians were kind enough to help me, to support me while I fought to reclaim the throne that has been stolen from me."

He paused, seeing a way that he could get his people to start accepting the Narnians, Aislynn, and the High King and his siblings. "But in truth, it is a throne that has never rightfully belonged to me. The throne belongs, by all rights and Narnian law, to High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund, and Queen Lucy, and it is to them that I intend to restore the throne, exactly as the Great Lion Aslan declared." He softened his voice. "This land has never rightfully belonged to us – but that does not mean that we cannot still live as one with the Narnians, under their Kings and Queens and laws. Surrender and we will find a way to live in peace. You have my word as your prince."

He held his breath, wondering if they would attack nonetheless. He was tired of the bloodshed, but – like the Narnians – he would fight if they refused to lay down their arms. He had made a pledge to the Narnians, that he would help them to reclaim their homeland, and he would not be foresworn in his promise. Narnia belonged to the Narnians, and he would see to it that either his people would learn to live in peace with them, or they would leave Narnia and make their way back to Telmar.

But slowly, the Telmarines shifted, each one lowering his sword as they parted – allowing Commander Larez to approach. Caspian tensed, remembering how the man had reacted when they had captured him and interrogated him. Not to mention, he had also murdered the Faun who had been guarding him in cold blood. There was no way to predict what he would say or do.

"I do not know what to think about your plan, but what I do know is that you and your allies have defeated us fairly." To his surprise, Larez offered his sword to Caspian, hilt first. "You have our unconditional surrender, Your Highness."

Caspian took the sword and Larez dropped to one knee and lowered his head. One by one, the rest of the army did the same, even those who were slowly emerging from the river. Caspian turned and looked at Peter, at a loss for what he should do next.

* * *

_Aslan's How…_

When the doorway to the How collapsed under the bombardment from the catapults, Krisalyn knew that she had to get the healers and their patients out of the How. Her cousin had been unable to deal with the siege engines, and she was not going to risk the lives of the healers and the wounded by allowing them to stay. The How had been built to be sturdy and endure, but no one had taken a weapon like the Telmarine catapults into account. No one used anything like it in Narnia, Archenland, or Calormen. They couldn't plan for something that they had never seen before – and Krisalyn was not going to put the construction skills of the Narnians to the test against such a weapon.

She wished there was something that she could do for the Narnians that were trapped under the collapsed doorway – but they didn't have enough people who were strong enough to shift the debris.

_Even if we did have enough people, there's no way anyone could have survived a collapse like that,_ Krisalyn told herself as she stamped down furiously on the desire to go and try to dig the Narnians out regardless of the impracticality of it. Some of the Narnians who had still been inside the How were already trying – but they couldn't stay and risk more lives.

"Narnians, to me!" she called, pitching her voice to carry to all ears. As soon as she had everyone's attention, she looked around. "We must leave the How before the other exits are found and collapsed as well. Healers, help your patients that are not mobile. Anyone who is capable of moving under their own power needs to help someone who isn't, or carry a torch or healing supplies. Personal belongings will need to be left behind. After the battle is over and we're certain the How is in no danger of collapsing, we will return for the rest of the supplies and to free those who didn't avoid the collapse."

There was some muttering about leaving the Narnians trapped, but Krisalyn silenced those mutters quickly. "We do not have the resources or the time to try to dig them out now – and the debris is too heavy for anyone to have survived. They will be given a proper burial when this is over, and they will be remembered as martyrs and heroes of Narnia forever."

The Narnians seemed to see her point, but she could tell they were not happy about it. No one was happy to lose friends and loved ones at any time, let alone for a battle that should never have been fought in the first place. As the How shuddered under another hit and more dirt rained from the ceiling, Krisalyn hurried to get them organized. Fortunately, most of the wounded were mobile and were able to get themselves to the passage that would lead to the exit she wanted to use. The few who were not ambulatory were quickly taken in charge by the healers and their assistants.

Krisalyn grabbed a torch off the wall and moved to the front of the line. "Everyone needs to stay together. When we get out of the tunnel, we'll be in a small grove to the east of the How. Healers, you will need to set up there. I shall go out and start finding more wounded and send them back to you, along with any who can be spared from the fighting to see that they make it safely without compromising your position."

"You are not armed, Your Majesty," one of the Fauns who had received a broken arm when a Telmarine soldier had leaped on him from the top of the collapsed earth while he was finishing off another enemy. He had fought his way back to the How, despite his broken arm, leading a Satyr who had gotten a serious concussion when a chunk of rock from one of the catapult shots had impacted him in the head.

"I do not intend to go into combat, good cousin," Krisalyn replied.

"But the Telmarines cannot be trusted, Your Majesty," Tumnus spoke up in agreement. "King Peter will not be pleased at you putting yourself in danger and not taking anything to defend yourself with."

The first Faun who had spoke handed her his short sword. "Take this, Majesty. I cannot wield it properly with a broken arm, but it will aid you if you are seen."

Krisalyn was going to refuse, but she knew that both Fauns were right. It wasn't fair to expect Peter to come back to her safely when she was putting herself into just as much danger as he was. She was not afraid of battle – as she had told Peter, she was no stranger to combat or the battlefield. Although she had never actually fought in a campaign during her royal training, she had been taught to command an army and to lead during the drills run by her uncle and his generals. She didn't fear battle and the sight of blood didn't bother her. She had little time in her life left – somehow she knew that instinctively. Dying didn't hold any fear for her. She was dying anyway – the only thing left to be determined was how and where. When she passed on, she knew that Aslan would call her to his Country, so there was nothing that she should fear.

But she took the sword without arguing, nodding her thanks before she turned and began to lead the small group through the winding tunnel. It had been some time since she'd last thought about all of these tunnels. Back during the stage when they'd been planning out the layout of the How, she'd been one of the ones who had insisted on multiple exits – but she'd never actually _been_ to the How before now. She had been planning on making a visit only a week before they had received word of the invasion – and she'd never gotten a chance to come. She was only hoping that she could trust her memory of twenty years ago.

The interior had been deliberately designed to confuse and bewilder any enemy who might make it inside. There was a system to navigating the tunnels in place that only a Narnian – or an adopted Narnian, as she was – would understand. The maze of tunnels had been designed to allow the Narnians to fall back and strike from multiple points at once. That concept had been an innovation of Oreius, who was – apart from Peter and Edmund – the best tactician in Narnia, and they had learned from him to begin with.

Krisalyn paused at a junction of tunnels and peered at the walls, holding her torch up and looking for the tell-tale signs that would point her in the direction that she wanted to go. The whole key to navigating the tunnels was an awareness of the life and relationships of the Narnians with their country and Aslan. It was a complicated system of colors, directions, and history, but it was one that connected with every Narnian's love of the kingdom that Aslan had created for them.

After a moment, she located the correct tunnel, or so she hoped, and led the healers and the wounded down it. The tunnel twisted and turned, making her question if she had chosen the right one after all. But to her relief, a few minutes later they emerged from the tunnel right where she had planned for them to be. The grove was small and sheltered from sight by bushes and trees that had been carefully planted to give the appearance of an impenetrable thicket, but to someone who knew the secrets of the How, it was quite easy to enter and exit.

Krisalyn quickly helped the healers reset their supplies and tie new bandages around wounds that had reopened before she squirmed out of the thicket and headed for the front of the How. A breeze had picked up since she had been outside with Peter earlier, and there was a freshness to it that reminded her of the happy days of twenty-five years ago, when she'd been at Cair Paravel with Peter and her in-laws, simply enjoying their lives while they served the Narnians to the best of their abilities.

She rounded the edge of the How to the field that had become the battleground and stopped in her tracks as she caught sight of something she had never thought to see again. Trees were on the field – trees that had not been there a short time ago. Even more, the trees were moving, wading through the earth, their giant roots bursting through the ground to wrap around soldiers and catapults alike.

Only Aslan could have awakened the Dryads from their slumber and sent them to the aid of the rest of the Narnians.

_Aislynn and Lucy did it! _ she thought. _They found him!_

As the Telmarines fled back across the field, she ducked back into the thicket long enough to tell the healers the good news, so they could begin arranging for someone to go out to the field and begin tending to the wounded who hadn't made it back to the How. Peter's army was in hot pursuit of the Telmarines, and although she knew she should stay with the healers as she had been assigned, all she wanted at that moment was to find her husband and her daughter and make sure they were both safe. She left Tumnus in charge of the healers before she left the thicket again.

Milling around the edge of the collapsed earth were several Telmarine horses. They were stamping and snorting nervously, the battle and the sudden collapse of the earth having completely startled them and made them very uneasy. She eased her way over to them, making soothing sounds to assure them as she looked for one that appeared to be calmer than the others. After a moment, she spotted one. Although still nervous, the dark chestnut stallion wasn't fretting as much as the others, but he was also larger than most – obviously a highly bred and trained warhorse. Gently, she took the stallion's reins and carefully mounted, bringing the enormous beast under control with firm commands and a steady attitude.

Having a rider on his back made all the difference, as the stallion instantly calmed. It didn't surprise her, for war horses like this one were trained to take their cue from their riders, and if they were somehow separated from their masters, they were left with no direction and it made them very uneasy to be without guidance. Spinning the stallion on his heels, she sent him off after the last of the combined Narnian and Telmarine forces, determined to find her husband and her daughter and assure herself that they had kept their promises to be safe and careful.

* * *

_Beruna…_

Peter could see the uncertainty in Caspian's eyes as Larez surrendered to him. The Prince still had a great deal to learn about command, but his speech had convinced his people to stand down – and that was a good start. Now wasn't the time to teach him anyway. There was still a great deal that would have to be done before Caspian could legitimately claim the Telmarine throne, and that would be the time to give him pointers. Right now, Peter was still the one in charge of the Narnian army, and Edmund was his second. The Narnians would respond to them better and more readily, since they knew _exactly_ what needed to be done.

He looked down at Trumpkin, who had somehow found his way to the front of the army in the confusion. "Have some of the Narnians go around and confiscate their weapons. Then have them escorted back to the How. We'll have to arrange a secured place for them to bivouac for the night, and tomorrow we'll march to Cair Paravel."

"Yes, sire," the Red Dwarf said. He bowed, and then hurried off to complete his task, gesturing for two Fauns and a Centaur to accompany him. Peter watched closely for a few minutes as the Narnians began to move among the Telmarines, confiscating their weapons. The presence of the Narnians clearly made the Telmarines uneasy, particularly the Fauns and the Centaur, and Peter didn't want one of the Telmarines to panic at their proximity and attack. But it seemed that, despite their uneasiness, the men were disciplined enough to maintain their places, only watching the Narnians closely, and one by one handing over their weapons as the Narnians reached them. For their part, the Narnians made no threatening, angry, or taunting remarks or gestures that could provoke an attack.

Peter turned his attention to the far bank of the river, where Aslan was waiting with Lucy and Aislynn. He started toward the river, when he paused and looked down at Rhindon. The normally shining blade was coated in the blood of the enemies he had wounded and killed that day. He was hardened to the sight of blood, but it was the useless waste of life that nauseated him – as it did after every battle.

He was not so undisciplined as to be sick here and now on the edge of the river – he had to remain composed and confident until he could be alone. Getting sick now would only make him appear to be an unblooded youth in the eyes of the Telmarines, and not the experienced King he claimed to be. If he did _anything_ that would cause them to lose respect for him and his authority now, he would _never_ be able to recover it, and he would always appear to be weak to them.

He remembered what Aslan had told him about keeping the blade clean. Glancing around, he spotted a bit of wet cloth that had been torn from a Telmarine uniform. Stooping down, he retrieved the cloth and wrung it out, then carefully wiped the blood off of Rhindon before he dried the blade on the thigh of his leggings, wary of the sword's keen edge. He'd never hear the end of it if he accidentally cut his own leg off when caring for his sword.

_Besides, if Oreius even _suspected_ that I didn't clean Rhindon before I put it back in its sheath, he'd give me such a tongue lashing that my ears would be ringing for a month._ Having been scolded by the General before, for a much less important reason than improper care of a blade, Peter had no desire to repeat the experience. Oreius knew many forms of combat and could be deadly in all of them – but Peter was willing to swear that the Centaur's tongue was the most dangerous of all, mostly because he rarely used it as such.

As he looked up from his task, he saw Edmund and Caspian copying his example, while Susan watched patiently. Her bow would need care and checking as well, but she didn't have the supplies with her to tend to it at the moment – and it could easily wait until she had a bit of leisure later. She had been there on the day Aslan had knighted Peter, telling him first to clean his sword. Edmund hadn't, but he had heard the story numerous times, as well as also having trained under Oreius. As for Caspian…well, if everything that Peter suspected about General Glozelle was true – if the man was even slightly like Oreius – the Prince would have been instructed just as firmly in the proper care of a blade.

Once they were all ready, Peter started for the river again, only to draw up short a second time as Cor rode up to them, with Corin in the saddle behind him. The Archenland King pulled his battle steed to a stop, and both twins dismounted.

"Victory, High King!" Cor declared as he came over to clasp Peter's arm.

"It would not have been possible without your assistance," Peter replied, before he turned to the younger twin. "Or yours, Corin."

"Archenland has always been Narnia's ally and shall always answer when she is in need," Cor replied firmly.

"And Narnia shall always reciprocate in turn," Peter pledged in response.

"What were the casualties among your men?" Edmund asked.

"Relatively few and no fatalities that I am aware of," Cor answered. "We caught them completely by surprise."

That was a relief. Peter already felt some measure of guilt over the Narnians who had lost their lives. Knowing that their allies had not lost any men in a fight that rightfully belonged solely to Narnia eased some of that guilt. He had always hated it when any Archenland soldier was injured in one of Narnia's battles. "If any did fall, they shall be honored at the memorial vigil," Peter said. That there would be a vigil was a given – there had always been one, ever since the first battle at Beruna. "But come, Aslan awaits us."

They started towards the river again, working their way past the submissive Telmarines who were handing over their weapons readily before gathering together for the journey back to the How. Peter saw some fear on their faces, and knew that they didn't fully trust the fact that he and Edmund would uphold Caspian's promise not to harm them. No doubt, they expected to be turned into slaves because they had lost this battle. They couldn't know that slavery was illegal in Narnia and that Peter had every intention of fulfilling Caspian's pledge to them. The Telmarine army was not to blame for this battle – they had only been following orders, as they had been trained to do. It would be easy to blame all of them as a group, but there was a reason that Edmund was known as the Just. Peter knew that he wouldn't allow any of the Narnians to blame the Telmarines as a whole for the crimes of a few – most of whom had already been punished for their transgressions against Narnia.

"Peter?"

Peter stopped just shy of the water at the sound of his name. He looked around for the source of the sound and spotted Krisalyn riding towards him on a dark chestnut war stallion. A wave of completely illogical relief washed over him. His wife was safe. He had known that Caspian would not have returned to the battlefield if Krisalyn had not been taken to safety when the battle started; that there were plenty of hidden exits from the How and that she had not been trapped when the main doorway of the How collapsed…but none of that mattered when pitted against the raw fear that his emotions and love for her had engendered in his heart.

"Peter!" she cried, relieved as she pulled her horse to a stop and dismounted. Her skirt was torn, she was covered in blood from the wounded that she had been tending, and rock dust coated her and turned her grey-streaked black hair a solid grey, while her hair was more than half free of the braid it had been in. But to Peter, she had never looked more beautiful, not even on the day of their wedding.

She hurried to him and threw herself into his arms, staggering him slightly, since she was taller than he was, and he was nearly exhausted from the fight – but he could care less. "You're safe!"

Peter held her close as he regained his balance from her "attack". "I promised I would come back to you, Kris," he whispered into her ear.

She pulled back just a bit and looked into his eyes, before she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Once again, it was sweet and loving, without the raw passion he knew that she was capable of feeling and sharing. But it was enough for Peter, considering how much he had feared that he had lost her forever when he had seen her anger and bitterness before, and considering the awkwardness of their relationship that was caused by the difference in their ages. It was enough that her love for him had returned with its full force – and that filled him with more joy than he'd felt since the day she had told him that she was pregnant with Aislynn.

Edmund cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Peter, but Aslan is still waiting – and so is your daughter."

Peter and Krisalyn broke apart to see Cor, Corin, Edmund, and Susan grinning broadly. Caspian just looked puzzled, not fully understanding the history between Peter and Krisalyn.

"Nice to see the two of you have made up," Edmund smirked.

Normally his brother's teasing would have made both of them turn red, but Peter was simply too happy to care. "Stuff it, Ed," Peter shot back, good-naturedly. His love and affection for his wife was well-known by all the Narnians, and it was not something that he was at all ashamed of.

But he knew that Edmund was right. They couldn't keep Aslan waiting. Taking Krisalyn's hand, he led her into the cold water of the Great River. The current was still swift from the flood, and it pulled at their legs. Krisalyn stumbled several times as her torn skirt tangled around her legs, but Peter was careful not to let her fall.

It took them a few minutes to reach the far bank, due to having to dodge some of the remaining debris from the bridge, as well as fight the swift current and slippery rocks at the bottom of the river. But they did make it across and clambered up the slope to where Aslan waited with Lucy and Aislynn. Peter wanted to race over to his daughter and make sure that she was all right, but showing the proper respect to Aslan came first. Besides, she was on her feet and didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere. He couldn't tell more than that in the second or two before he knelt on the sandy, gravelly shoreline, his head lowered in utmost respect for the Great Lion, drawing Krisalyn down with him. His siblings, Caspian, and the two Archenland royals followed his lead immediately.

"Rise, Kings and Queens," Aslan's deep voice reverberated, seeming to go right through him and leave him feeling warm inside, just like it always did whenever the Lion spoke. There was so much that was inherently _good_ about the Lion, that it didn't matter if he was tame or not. Aslan loved them and that filled Peter up with so much pride and self-respect that he felt like he could do _anything_ that Aslan asked of him. How had he ever forgotten that feeling?

Peter, Krisalyn, Edmund, Susan, Cor, and Corin all rose to their feet immediately. Caspian remained kneeling on the sandy shore, his head lowered. Peter glanced at Aislynn, but from where he stood, Aslan was blocking his view of her, and he couldn't tell if she'd been hurt anymore than he could when he had first looked at her.

"All of you," Aslan said warmly to Caspian.

The prince looked up in surprise, but hesitated. "I have no claim to Narnia's throne."

"But you are the King of the Telmarines, Caspian," Aislynn said quietly. "You may not wear a crown –"

"Yet," Edmund interjected with a grin.

"– but you are their King. A crown and a coronation can be easily arranged. The important thing is that you _believe_ that you are their King," Aislynn finished, ignoring her uncle's interruption.

Caspian was quiet for a moment, obviously pondering the princess's words. "I do not think I am ready."

"It is for that reason I know you are," Aslan countered. Caspian slowly rose to his feet and Aslan nodded in approval. The Great Lion shifted and Peter's eyes widened as he gripped Krisalyn's hand tightly – for Aislynn's swollen, bruised face had just come into view.

Krisalyn saw it too and gasped. "Aislynn, what happened?" She broke Peter's hold and rushed forward to touch her daughter's face gently.

Aislynn looked sheepish as she pulled away from her mother's touch. "The Telmarines caught up to us before we reached Aslan," she replied. "I was forced to fight the patrol in order to give Lucy time to get through, but I was captured." She ignored her mother's second gasp and her father's narrowed eyes. "The Lord in charge of the camp where they took me tried to interrogate me, and when I wouldn't give him the answers he wanted, he backhanded me a few times."

Edmund stepped forward and handed Lucy's cordial back to her. "Here, Lu."

Lucy attached the pouch to her belt before she extracted the bottle and uncorked it, offering it to Aislynn. "A drop should take care of that." As Aislynn took the bottle, Lucy looked back at the rest of her family and studied them with a healer's eyes. "You and Peter both seem to be in one piece for once."

"Believe it or not, Lu, I actually got Peter to take a drop of your cordial, otherwise _he_ wouldn't be," Edmund said.

Lucy looked at Peter, and then looked back at Edmund with a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "And you didn't have to sit on him this time? I'm impressed."

Peter ignored their banter at his expense, watching his daughter closely as she swallowed a single drop of the precious fireflower cordial. Even as she handed the little bottle back to Lucy, the swelling and the bruising began to fade. After only a few seconds, the only sign of the injury was a thin white scar that ran from her forehead, over her right brow, bypassed her eye completely, and then ran halfway down her right cheek.

Caspian was watching, an angry look on his face that one of his people had dared to scar Narnia's princess and future Queen. "Do you know which Lord struck you, my lady?"

Aislynn shook her head. "No, and I do not care. If there is to be peace between the Narnians and the Telmarines – real peace, and not just an uneasy truce – we cannot seek retribution for every little transgression, Caspian. The ones responsible for this needless war have been dealt with. Now is the time to work to integrate."

"True words, daughter," Aslan said quietly, a pleased look on his face.

Peter started to say something, but before he could, a quiet voice from near his feet spoke. "Your Majesty?"

Everyone looked down to see a group of Mice led by Peepiceek approaching, carrying a littler on which Reepicheep lay, wounded and unconscious. Lucy stepped forward quickly, again extracting her cordial and allowing a single drop to fall into the Chief Mouse's mouth. It took about thirty seconds before Reepicheep's eyes opened and he saw Lucy kneeling beside him. "Oh! Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you." Peepiceek and one of the other Mice stepped forward and helped him to his feet. "Uh – oh!" he exclaimed when he realized that Aslan was sitting only a few feet away. "Hail, Aslan! It is a great honor to be in – oh!" He stumbled as he started to bow, off-balance, as he suddenly realized that his long tail was missing.

"I'm completely out of countenance," Reepicheep said, stumbling back several paces. If a Mouse could blush, Reepicheep would have been a solid red from the tip of his jaunty feather to the tips of his paws. "I must crave your indulgence for appearing in this unseemly fashion." He looked up at Lucy, hopefully. "Uh…perhaps a drop more?"

Lucy looked regretful and shook her head. "I don't think it does that."

"You could have a go," Reepicheep replied.

Aslan's deep, rich chuckles broke the conversation. "It becomes you well, small one."

"All the same, great king, I regret that I must withdraw," Reepicheep unsheathed his blade and laid it across his paws, as if preparing to offer it in resignation. "For a tail is the honor and glory of a Mouse."

"Perhaps you think too much of your honor, friend?" Aslan asked, his voice holding an odd note that Peter was almost willing to swear was amused when the Lion was trying to appear stern. Looking closer, Peter could see that Aslan's eyes were twinkling.

"Well…it's not just the honor…" Reepicheep scrambled. "It's also great for balance. And climbing. And grabbing things."

"Aslan, Reepicheep has been incredibly brave and dedicated to our cause since this began," Aislynn said in support of the Mouse.

Peter nodded in agreement. "He saved my life on the battlefield, even though his courage far exceeds his caution and self-restraint."

Aslan looked between them, and this time Peter distinctly saw a smile tug at the Lion's mouth as they spoke on Reepicheep's behalf. The smile, though subtle, was filled with warmth and Peter found himself smiling as well, behind Reepicheep's back.

"May it please Your High Majesty, we will not bear the shame of wearing an honor denied to our Chief," Peepiceek said, drawing his sword and holding it in preparation to cut off his own tail, the other five Mice who were present immediately following suit. Peter had no doubt that if Aslan refused Reepicheep here, the Mice wouldn't hesitate to do exactly as they planned.

Aslan laughed, a rich, full laugh that filled everyone with an equal joy as he regarded Reepicheep with those bright eyes. "Not for the sake of your dignity, but for the love of your people." A moment later, Reepicheep's tail magically restored itself.

Reepicheep's eyes widened and he grabbed his new tail. "Look! Look!" He spun in a circle, trying to see the entire length of it. "Thank you, my liege! I will treasure it always. From this day forth it shall serve as a great reminder of my huge humility." With a flourish, he sheathed his tiny rapier.

"Now," Aslan said, looking at Lucy. "Where is this dear little friend that you've told me so much about?"

Everyone looked around for Trumpkin and found that he had followed them across the river with a Faun and a Centaur and was seeing to the disarming of the Telmarines that were emerging from the River on this side. At Aslan's words, he looked over at them, hesitating for a moment. Slowly, he stepped away from the water's edge, leaving the other two Narnians to continue directing the Telmarines.

As he approached the place where Aslan stood, he stopped and dropped down onto one knee, resting the tip of his sword in the dirt and bowing his head. Aslan rose slowly to his feet, watching the Dwarf closely. Then, with no warning, he roared. The force of the roar literally blew Trumpkin's beard and hair around his face and he flinched.

As Aslan stopped roaring, Lucy grinned and looked at Trumpkin. "Do you see him now?"

The joke was lost on Krisalyn, Aislynn, Cor, Corin, Caspian, and the Mice since none of them had been with Lucy or her siblings when Trumpkin had been leading them to the How, but Peter, Susan, and Edmund were all forced to hide their smiles and stifle the laughter that wanted to emerge. That it was laughter that was partially born from their utter exhaustion didn't matter. Poor Trumpkin only looked bewildered and a little confused. If he saw the smiles they were trying to hide, he didn't comment, but only nodded in response to Lucy's question.

Aslan looked around at all of them. "I am very proud of all of you, dear ones. Once again, you have exceeded my highest hopes. You have learned much and accomplished much this day."

Peter looked around at his family and friends. It was true – it had taken all of them, working together, to bring peace back to Narnia. There were still many tasks and trials which lay ahead, especially if they truly hoped to integrate the Narnians and the Telmarines and show them that they could work together and live together in peace, but it _could_ be done, with time and patience. More importantly, it _would_ be done. Peter had no doubt that Caspian and Aislynn would see to that. They were the next generation of leaders for their people, and both of them wanted peace.

But right now, all _he_ wanted was to find a hot meal, a quiet bed, and clean clothing – not necessarily in that order. There would be time later to begin the reunification process, and everyone who would be directly involved in the political aspect would need to get some rest first. It would only be asking for trouble and a resurgence of hostilities for any of the leaders - whether Telmarine or Narnian – to go into such things while exhausted and coming off of a brutal battle. As High King of Narnia, Peter would be expected to be there, but he was completely exhausted at the moment and he also wanted – _needed_ – time with his wife and daughter before they turned all of their energy to the next set of tasks. He had been putting Narnia first ever since their arrival here, but he could no longer muster the energy to do it.

Repeatedly shifting between Narnia's Sword and himself had not helped matters either. While becoming Narnia's Sword granted him a surge of strength and energy, when that power went away, it left him drained. Usually, the funneling of power from Narnia to him and back again was much more gradual, and didn't leave him as weary. But today it had happened more rapidly than it ever had before – almost instantaneously, as if Narnia herself was trying to make up for the (apparent) twenty-five years that she had been without her High King. As a result, the exhaustion and drained side-effect was much more prominent this time. At the moment, it was all he could do to remain upright on his feet. Ignoring the exhaustion during the battle had been possible thanks to the adrenaline rush he'd gotten from the fighting, but now that the fight was over, his body was making its protests very clearly known.

Before he could say anything, he saw Edmund watching him closely, a concerned look on his face. The Just King turned to Aslan. "Aslan, there is much that must be done in regards to the Telmarines – and everyone is exhausted. May we have your leave to see to those tasks so that all may rest before we journey back to Cair Paravel?"

"Edmund!" Peter and Susan hissed together at their younger brother's audacity – no matter how carefully he had framed the request, one didn't simply _ask_ to walk away from Aslan! It was more polite to wait for _Aslan_ to dismiss them. In all the years they had known Narnia and Aslan, Peter had never known his brother to ask to be dismissed. In fact, of all of them, Edmund was usually the most conscientious about waiting politely for Aslan to give them permission. Peter suspected that it stemmed from the first uncertain days in Narnia when Edmund had just been saved from the Witch – his younger brother had been so careful not to do anything to offend anyone that he had seemed to be walking on eggshells around everyone. So for _Edmund_ to be the one asking…

Aslan's chuckle stopped them from rebuking their Just sibling further. "Of course. You have all had a trying day and will need rest. The greatest bulk of the fight is won, but there is more still to be done, and you shall all need to be rested before you enter the political realm of the transition."

With that, the Lion rose and stepped toward the River, plunging in without hesitating. It was the first time that Peter could recall the Lion looking so carefree and joyful. Even in the wake of the first Battle of Beruna, with Narnia free from the reign of the White Witch, Aslan had been serious and quiet as he did what he could to help prepare them for their roles as Narnia's Kings and Queens. However, where Aslan went, so did they. Peter took Krisalyn's hand again and led the way back to the opposite side to return to the How.

The Telmarines drew back at the sight of Aslan, while the Narnian and Archenland combined armies began spontaneously cheering the Great Lion. Peter noticed that the Dryads had left the trees and joined the armies, and at the same moment the Naiads of the Great River rose from the gently lapping waves and joined the cheers and celebration as Aslan began to move back in the direction of the How. The Archenland troops bowed in deepest respect to the Lion as he moved among them, while the Narnians raced right up to him, reaching out to touch him and walk beside him.

"Back to the How!" Peter called. "Tomorrow we march to reclaim Cair Paravel!"

More cheers greeted that announcement and the rest of the army fell into place, leading the Telmarines back to the How to rest. It was a long walk, and everyone was weary from the battle and the rest of the day's events when they finally emerged from the woods and saw the How. The damage to what had once been a beautiful clearing was striking. Before the battle, the How had risen from the far side of the field as a testament to the Narnians' ability to create a structure that was both defensive and highly sacred, sheltering the Stone Table and working to embrace the natural world that Aslan had given to them.

Now there was a large crater in the earth where they had collapsed the caverns, there were places where the Trees' roots had torn through the earth as they attacked the Telmarines, and bodies of the dead were lying everywhere, waiting to be buried. It seemed, however, that the healers were already well on their way to finding and caring for all the wounded, with the help of a few of the Narnians who were guarding them and confiscating all of the Telmarine weapons. But it would be a long time before the clearing looked the way it had only a day ago.

Peter blinked rapidly several times in an effort to keep from falling asleep as they made the long – yet triumphant – walk back across the field. He was literally on his last legs, and he didn't know if he would make it back to his own pallet before falling asleep, let alone stay awake long enough to remove his armor and get at least somewhat cleaned up. But he couldn't help pausing at the edge of the crater, looking down at the devastation the battle had caused. The sheer waste of life – and the destruction of his country's beauty – filled him with sadness and he sighed, his hand unconsciously tightening around Krisalyn's.

"Peter?" Her voice was sweet as she returned the squeeze. "What troubles you, my lord?"

"The waste," Peter replied softly as his siblings and daughter paused beside him, with Cor, Corin, and Caspian behind them. "How many people – Narnian, Archenland, and Telmarine alike – have died here today? How much blood has been spilt? And for what; the greed of two men who could not accept their places?" Peter tore his eyes away from the crater and looked at his wife.

* * *

"We won't know and we'll never understand, Peter," Krisalyn whispered. "You know that – you've fought for Narnia for years and seen all of this before. Narnia is not perfect, nor are her people. Conflict is always going to be inevitable, and greed and ambition can destroy just as much as any weapon." She reached up with her free hand and caressed his cheek before glancing at Aislynn, whose scarred cheek was a stark testament to the damage that could be done. "All we can do when it happens is get through it – and then pick up the pieces and try to restore things to what they were."

Peter had no response to that and could only look at her – and Krisalyn could see that he was heartsick over the deaths that he had been a part of. It made her ill too – he should never have had to lead the Narnians into battle, let alone raise his sword and kill so many – but she hadn't killed anyone, nor been forced to direct her people to kill. So it fell upon her to lend him her strength to lean on until he could process what he had seen that day. While Peter wouldn't hesitate to do whatever was necessary to defend his people, his family, or his country, it didn't mean he _enjoyed_ what he had to do at times. She'd lost track of the number of times she'd had to console and support him after a battle, once he'd come home to her at Cair Paravel and the full emotional impact had struck him.

Peter had always felt things deeply. He was gentle and kind, passionate and loving. That was one of the things that she loved the most about him. Of course, to counter his caring nature was a temper that – although rare – was powerful and fearsome enough to frighten anyone. Edmund claimed that when fully enraged, Peter could stop a bull in full charge because the power that emanated from him was so great. But his temper rarely showed itself – only happening when someone attacked his family or his country. When he personally was attacked or insulted, he simply went cold and detached – which in its way was equally frightening.

Looking at him now, however, Krisalyn couldn't see the noble King and proud warrior who had faced down a usurper and the entire Telmarine army. All she could see was a boy, tired and heartsick with the things he had witnessed that day, and her heart broke for him at the lost expression on his face and the sadness in his blue eyes. She looked over at the rest of his family and saw similar looks, but it wasn't anywhere near as pronounced on their faces as it was on his. Aislynn caught her eye and Krisalyn knew immediately that her daughter felt much the same way – and as far as she knew, Aislynn hadn't seen any combat during this most recent conflict.

Aislynn tipped her head towards the How, an eyebrow raised in question, and when Krisalyn nodded, began herding the rest of the royals in the direction of the How. Aslan had already gone ahead, with the rest of the Narnians surrounding him joyfully. Krisalyn caressed Peter's cheek again, watching as his eyes fluttering closed for a moment under her touch before he opened them.

"Peter, come with me," she said softly, squeezing his hand again. She took a few steps in the direction of the How, pulling him along with her. After a few seconds he started moving without her gentle tugs on his hand, but she stayed with him as they went around the crater and toward the How. With each step he seemed to grow wearier and wearier. His shoulders began to slump with exhaustion and it was apparent that he wasn't even thinking about appearances any longer. Not that she blamed him – he had fought long and hard that day. Lucy's cordial had healed his wounds, but it hadn't restored his energy or the strength he had given that day.

The others were waiting for them near the front entrance of the How. Peter seemed to rouse slightly as he caught sight of his family waiting for them, but his blue eyes were still dull with exhaustion. He paused as he took in the sight of the collapsed entrance to the How, and she saw the guilt and pain that went through him as he thought about the Narnians who had died, crushed under the rubble. Although he had no direct responsibility for their deaths, as their commander in the battle, he would take the blame because he had led them into the fight. Krisalyn knew her husband all too well. He had always hated leading the Narnians into a battle, especially when it could and likely would cost lives.

Now he was silently regarding the collapse for a moment before he turned to his brother. "Ed, can you see about organizing a team to clear out that debris?" If he had looked guilty a moment ago about the deaths of the Narnians, he now looked even more so at the thought that he was asking his brother to take over his responsibilities. Technically, he was still in command of the Narnians, and thus _he_ should be the one supervising the aftermath of the battle, no matter how exhausted he was. That was one thing that Oreius had pounded into the heads of both Edmund and Peter – always make sure that the troops were taken care of first, and_ then_ they could rest themselves.

"'Course, Peter," Edmund said readily. "The Dwarves should be able to handle it easily enough."

"I would handle it…" Peter began, but Edmund raised his hand to stop his brother from continuing.

"I'll take care of it, Pete. Go and rest – you look dead on your feet."

"You're a brick, Ed," Peter said softly, but with a great deal of feeling. He reached out and took his brother's gauntleted hand for a moment, as his other hand came up to squeeze Edmund's shoulder, before he turned towards the rest of his family and offered them a weary, crooked smile. He released Edmund and gently ran the back of his hand down Aislynn's scarred cheek before he began trudging towards the side entrance to the How.

Krisalyn lingered for a moment, watching her in-laws and daughter, but it was Aislynn who waved her off in the direction that Peter had gone. "Stay with him, Mother. He'll need you."

"Yes, please, Krisalyn," Susan added. "Take care of Peter."

She nodded and followed Peter around to the side entrance she had used to get the healers out earlier and then hurried to catch up to him. Once she was inside she stopped a passing Faun to request that some warmed water and a clean cloth be brought to her room. The Faun nodded and hurried off to do as she had requested, while she moved off, following Peter's path as he rounded a corner ahead of her.

How her husband was managing to remain on his feet was a miracle to her. He was so weary that she was half-expecting him to be staggering, or dragging his feet, but somehow he was able to appear calm and dignified even when he was probably barely holding on to consciousness. The only sign that he was exhausted was when he completely missed the entrance to the small room that he was sharing with Caspian, Edmund, Cor, and Corin. She lengthened her stride to catch up to him and gently grasped his arm and pulled him to a stop. He blinked, as if surprised to see her standing next to him.

"In here, Peter," she said softly, interjecting a soothing note into her voice. She felt so sorry for him, seeing him this exhausted. In fact, it was the first time she could recall seeing him this tired. Although he had often been tired after a battle campaign, he usually had at least a night's sleep before returning to Cair Paravel, so he usually wasn't dropping in his tracks like he seemed about to do. And she had _never_ seen him this weary after Court, no matter how heated matters had become.

She steered him into the room that she shared with Aislynn, Susan, and Lucy, instead of into his own chamber. His sisters and Aislynn would be quieter when they came in than the other Kings would be, what with having to remove all of their plate armor, and she wanted Peter to get a night of uninterrupted sleep. She guided him over to a chunk of rock that would make a decent enough seat until she could get his armor off of him. From what Lucy had said in the past, both of the Kings had a tendency to occasionally fall asleep wearing their armor, especially if one of them was injured and the other fell asleep while waiting at the sick bed. Something that she knew was excruiatingly uncomfortable to begin with, let alone while wearing 15-20 pounds of armor as well.

She rested her hand on his shoulder and applied just enough pressure to force him to sit – not that he really _needed_ the encouragement, since he was barely remaining on his feet as it was. He was covered in blood, his blonde hair was matted to his head with perspiration, and he was trembling with cold in the cooler air of the How's cavern tunnels. She knelt down in front of him and reached up to touch his cheek. "It's all right, Peter. Hold on a little longer and then you can sleep."

Scratching at the doorway drew her attention and she rose to her feet and went over. Pushing the makeshift curtain aside, she found a Faun child waiting with the warmed water and soft cloths that she had requested. Krisalyn smiled down at him and took the items carefully, so as not to spill the water. "Thank you, little one."

The child bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty."

Krisalyn dismissed the child with a nod, and as soon as he turned and scampered away, she allowed the curtain to fall closed and carried the full basin and rags over to Peter's side. His eyes were closed, but his breathing wasn't even or slow enough to indicate sleep. "Peter?"

Wearily, he opened his eyes and she could see just how much of an effort it was for him. She knelt at his feet and reached up to remove his belt, which she laid aside, along with Rhindon. "Just a few more minutes, Peter," she said, pitching her voice softly. He nodded and tried to sit up a little straighter, but with mixed success.

He was still wearing his gauntlets and he fumbled to catch the edge of his tunic so he could pull it off, so tired that he didn't even realize that he was still wearing the pauldrons, rerebraces, and vambraces as well. As long as his arm protection was still on, the tunic wasn't going anywhere, so she reached out and caught his hands and stilled them. "I'll do it, Peter. Let me help you again."

He blinked at her, and then slowly nodded before he shifted uncomfortably. She quickly pushed his hands down and removed his leg armor – the greaves and the sabatons came off easily enough and she set them aside to be cleaned and polished. Rising to her feet, she moved behind him and reached for the leather straps holding the vambraces on. They were removed and followed by the other pieces, including his gauntlets. All of his arm protection was spattered with blood from the fighting, and no doubt some of it was his own as well as that of the men who had died under Rhindon's edge or point that day.

She caught the edge of the scarlet tabard, which was just as bloody as the rest of his armor. Apparently the river hadn't been able to wash all of it away, since the scarlet cloth was stained a deeper crimson in several places. Lifting the material over his head, she exposed the chest plate, collar, and chainmail hauberk. Surprisingly, the hauberk, chainmail, and the steel chest piece were also spattered in blood, not to the extent that his tabard was, of course – but his hands were also covered in blood. She would have expected the gauntlets to be bloody, but not the skin of his hands.

She quickly and carefully stripped the rest of his armor off of him, leaving him clad only in the quilted tunic and leggings that he wore underneath. All of the armor was piled carefully to the side with Rhindon and his belt so that everything could be cleaned. Then she knelt in front of him again and gently picked up his right hand in her left. Picking up one of the rags, she dipped it in the warm water, wringing it out before she gently began washing off his hand. Given his feelings about the wasted loss of life, she knew he would not want to be reminded by having to look at the blood of the people who had died under his blade that day.

The water and the soft cloth was helping, but there were places where the blood had worked its way into all of the crevices and grooves in his hand, and under his cuticles and nails. She painstakingly, gently rubbed his hands with the cloth and the water, chasing out each speck of blood that she could see. At one point, upon looking up at his face, Krisalyn could see that the soothing strokes of the cloth and the care she was giving his hands had helped to relax some of the tension in his neck and shoulders. Peter's eyes were half-lidded, which told her how much he was enjoying her care. He had only ever responded to her like this – even when comforted by one of his siblings, there had always been some lingering tension. Peter was a protector by nature, and – as he had told her more than once, he felt like he needed to be strong for Edmund, Susan, and Lucy in the first few years of their reign, and doing so had just become a habit. But she was his haven, his shelter and his peace. She knew all about the burden of being a ruler, because unlike Peter and his siblings, her entire life had been devoted to becoming a ruler. She had made it clear to him, from the very beginning of their marriage that she would not tolerate him hiding things from her "for her own good". She couldn't help him if he wouldn't tell her what was troubling him.

Once his hands were clean, she carefully used the rag to clean off his face. The water in the basin had taken on a distinctly pink tinge, as well as being somewhat dark from the dirt and grime that she had washed off along with the blood.

"Thank you, my lady," Peter whispered. "That feels wonderful."

"I know how much you enjoy your baths after a campaign, my King," she replied, equally soft, before she interjected a note of teasing in her voice. "Unfortunately, given the distinct lack of a marble bathtub, this will have to do."

Peter wheezed out a short chuckle, but it was apparent he couldn't stay awake any longer. Putting aside the cloth, she retrieved his tunic and leggings from before the battle and pushed them into his hands. "Change out of those filthy clothes Peter."

He blinked at her. It took him several seconds before he processed her words. "'Kay." He fumbled with the cloth for a moment before he got to his feet to begin changing. She turned her back and went over to her pallet, refolding the extra blankets to make as comfortable a place for her husband as she could. The sound of cloth, heavy with sweat and blood, falling to the floor told her that he was almost ready, but she kept her hands busy until the noises from behind her stopped.

Then, with the care born by love and affection (and caution so as not to startle him while he was so exhausted) she approached him and steered him over to her pallet before she helped him into it. Although in this case, it was more an effort of positioning him correctly, because as soon as his head hit the makeshift pillow, he was asleep. Krisalyn gently stroked his blonde hair back from his face.

Looking at him now, Krisalyn found that she was once again struck by the realization of just how much she loved Peter. How had she ever forgotten that? Of all the men who had courted her in an effort to gain power when she had been the Crown Princess of Archenland, only Peter had touched her heart. Only Peter had tried to be a friend first, treating her no differently than he treated any of the young women who had been throwing themselves at _him._ During the nine years they had been together after they married, they had been happy together. Yes, they had suffered when they lost their first child, and there had been injuries and illness on both sides – but they had, overall, been very happy together.

It was a shame that they would probably never be able to recover what they had once had. The difference in their ages was too extreme now, no matter what their feelings. There would always be a level of discomfort and awkwardness between them that hadn't been there when they had been the same age. Not to mention, she didn't know how much longer she had left, while Peter – Peter was _young_ again. He was getting the chance to live some of the best years of his life for a second time.

For a moment, raw envy stabbed through her, stealing her breath away. She had to struggle to not say or do anything that would wake Peter up when he so desperately needed sleep. But the simple fact remained – Peter was getting a second chance. Some part of her had acknowledged that, but it hadn't really dawned on her while she was struggling with seeing her beloved husband for the first time in twenty-five years and trying to deal with the unfounded anger and bitterness that she had been feeling over his apparent abandonment.

_Be fair,_ she reminded herself. _It isn't Peter's fault that this happened. I cannot take it out on him. Everything that has happened has been due to Aslan's will, even if I do not understand or like what has happened. I cannot – I __**will not**__ drive another wedge into the relationship that I have with Peter, because this is not his fault._

_My life is coming to an end soon, but Peter will still be there. He will have his siblings with him, for they are going through the exact same thing. I would give so much to have a second chance like he's received._

After all, her greatest wish was to see Aislynn firmly on the Narnian throne, happily married, and perhaps with children of her own. Of course, now that Peter and his siblings had returned to Narnia, that day might not be coming for a very long time. She couldn't imagine Peter and the others not wanting to stay in Narnia and renew their rule as they continued to help put things right.

_But it seems, of course, that I may not get the opportunity to see Aislynn on the throne that is rightfully hers. At least if I do not get to see it, Peter will be here for Aislynn and they'll have each other._

The envy was still stabbing her, but she forced it aside, banishing the feelings to the deepest portion of her heart. Peter needed her support, not her condemnation. She had made enough mistakes with her anger and bitterness in the last few days, not to mention what her betrayed heart had done to Aislynn. She was not going to make further mistakes.

Leaning over, she checked on Peter. He was still deeply asleep, his breathing slow and even. She wrung out the cloth she was using as best she could before she laid it on his brow, using it to help cool the flush on his face from the exertion and the sun that he had received that day.

"I am so sorry, Peter," she whispered. "You should never have had to go through this. I was Narnia's Queen. I should have stayed, should have confronted the Telmarines when they first invaded. If I had, they would have realized that Narnia was inhabited, and perhaps we all could have lived in peace. But I allowed my fear to keep me from fulfilling my duty." She sighed. "You'll never know how much I regret so many of my choices."

* * *

_Outside of the How…_

Edmund watched Peter and Krisalyn head slowly for the side entrance to the How. It hurt his heart to see the exhaustion in his brother's gaze and gait. He honestly couldn't recall ever seeing Peter this exhausted before. At battle, and in the immediate aftermath of a battle, Peter's energy burned like a brilliant flame. He had taken the lessons about tending to one's army to heart, and never before, in fifteen years, had he passed off that responsibility to Edmund. Of course, that was why Edmund was so glad to take care of things for his brother now.

As soon as his brother and sister-in-law were out of sight, he looked around for an appropriate messenger and spotted a small Robin. He whistled softly to get the Bird's attention and watched as the tiny creature spread its wings and fluttered down to land on his hand, where it bobbed its head in the closest approximation of a bow that it could make.

"How may I serve, Just King?" the Robin asked, tipping it's head to the side and staring up at him with one little black eye.

"Send word to the Dwarves and the Giant Wimbleweather – their aid is needed in clearing the debris from the main entrance of the How and removing the bodies of the fallen who were caught in the collapse for burial." Edmund knew that the Dwarves – master stonemasons that they were – and Wimbleweather would be able to clear the debris and repair the entrance in a matter of hours.

"Yes, Sire," the Robin bowed again before spreading its wings and taking to the air to carry the news to the Dwarves and the Giant as he had been instructed to do. Edmund watched as his red feathers vanished into the last of the late afternoon sunlight, before he turned and looked back at the battlefield. Things were proceeding well in getting the wounded seen to and the bodies of the fallen gathered for burial. The dead Telmarines were being lined up separately from the fallen Narnians so that they could be buried according to the Telmarine custom.

Apart from the bodies of the wounded and dead, the most striking evidence of the battle was the large crater in the middle of the field, and the collapsed wreckage of the Telmarine siege weaponry. Some of the Trees had moved back into the wood, but others had stayed on the field, using their spreading branches over the wounded to keep the sun from them until the healers could arrive.

_Narnia_ _is a place of peace…why must its beauty be so desecrated by battle and death because of greed? Aslan has only ever sought peace for his children – peace that we failed to bring them when we were sent back_.

"Edmund?"

He turned at the sound of his sister's sweet voice. "Yes, Lu?"

"Are you all right?" His little sister looked gently concerned and her brown eyes were filled with compassion.

"I'm fine. Not even a scratch," he answered, for once knowing that it was true. Staying on the horse for most of the initial fight had kept him out of the direct path of danger, but even when they had all charged into the melee, his skills with a blade – and having Peter by his side – had kept him safe. He turned back as the first of the Dwarves gathered by the Robin arrived with their axes and picks to begin clearing the debris.

His sister poked him in the arm to get his attention, giving him a pointed look when he turned back to face her. He knew that look all too well – she didn't believe what he was saying. "That's not what I mean, Edmund and you know it."

Edmund swallowed a sudden dryness in his throat as he realized that his sister was referring to the battle and the duel. Lucy was very discerning and insightful most of the time. More than anyone – except Susan, perhaps – Lucy knew how hard it was for him to watch Peter fight and not be able to help him, whether it had been in a tournament or on the battlefield. Both he and Peter had taken Oreius' admonishments about fighting together as brothers to heart.

"_You are Kings – equal in power and majesty according to Aslan's law," Oreius told them as they stood in the small walled-in yard that they had claimed as their own private training ground for their lessons with Oreius and the other soldiers that he had chosen as his assistants._

_Peter and Edmund glanced at each other as Oreius paced around them. The massive Centaur still intimidated them slightly, especially after seeing him fight during the battle a week ago. Oreius was so large; they couldn't imagine ever being able to face him in one-to-one combat. It was one thing to do it when they were desperate and fueled by battle adrenaline, but it was something completely different to methodically learning to duel someone of his size._

_Of course, there were Narnians who were larger – the Giants, for instance – but Oreius was not only one of their teachers, he was one of their advisors, and they desperately wanted to impress him. They didn't want him to think of them as children who were incapable of learning from him, and who needed to be walked through every step of their rule._

"_Even more importantly, you are brothers," Oreius continued, stopping in front of them and looking them squarely in the eye. "As brothers, and as Kings, you must be each other's refuge and shield. It does not matter what may be between you emotionally. When you step onto the field of battle, even in this training yard, I expect you to work together and act as if your own life depends on the life of your brother. Is that understood?"_

_Both of them nodded immediately. Aslan had already drawn both of them aside after the coronation and discussed this with them. They were Narnia's first line of defense, which was why they had been granted the North and Western Marches of their country. It was their duty to work together to defend their country, and their sisters._

"_Now," Oreius reached over his shoulder and drew his enormous sword. "Defend yourself and your brother!" With that he swung, and the training duel was begun._

Oreius had drilled that lesson in to them over the years, with the expected result. Together, there was no foe that he and Peter couldn't defeat, but being separated in a battle weakened them. More than anyone else in the Narnian army, he and Peter trusted each other at their backs – and they balanced each other perfectly, in court _or_ on the battlefield. When Peter's temper raged, Edmund remained calm and collected and approached a problem logically and methodically. On the few occasions when their positions had been reversed and it had been _Edmund_ who was enraged, Peter became the calm and rational one. And as everyone in the Narnian army knew, on the extremely rare occasions when Edmund and Peter's reactions had been the same – well…it was not a good idea to be standing in opposition to them, since they tended to plow through anything that stood in their path.

But now, with Lucy looking at him so pointedly, Edmund knew there was no point in denying it. Had it been anyone else – Oreius, or Tumnus – he would have passed it off as being insignificant. But he couldn't lie to Lucy – not anymore. Not since Aslan had brought him back from the Witch and showed him what it meant to be a brother and a King.

"It was hard to watch, Lu," Edmund admitted quietly, so as not to be overheard. While he was willing to admit things to his little sister – who was also his Queen – he wasn't willing to show any weakness before the Narnians or the Telmarines who were working around them or being escorted to bivouacs for the night. "There were so many times when I thought that he wouldn't make it through the duel. I just – I was so afraid for him. Having to stand there and just watch…" Edmund found that his throat had choked up and he couldn't continue.

"Oh, Edmund…" His little sister quickly found her way into his arms and just held him. Edmund wrapped his arms around her shoulders and just held her, dropping his head to the top of her head. It was an odd moment of peace amid the sounds of battle clean-up and rubble being moved away. The emotional impact of everything that they had seen and done that day, and the impact of everything that had happened to Narnia in their long absence finally hit him and he couldn't do anything except allow his little sister to hold him. He wouldn't cry – not here in the open, for he had too much control to allow that much weakness to be seen. There would be a time and a place to break down like that. But things were still not fully secure in Narnia, and until their authority and that of Aslan and Caspian had been established, showing anything other than a strong, composed front would put them on a weaker footing with the Telmarines.

"Ed, you know that…" Lucy began, only to stop as raised voices from nearby caught their attention and a group of surly Dwarves approached with their picks and axes. Just behind them, Edmund could see Wimbleweather crossing the field, skirting around the outside of the crater. The Dwarves stopped just shy of where Edmund and his sisters stood and milled around a bit before one of the Red Dwarves and one of the Black Dwarves stepped forward to bow roughly before the two monarchs.

"You summoned us, Your Majesty?" the Red Dwarf asked.

"Yes, good cousins," Edmund nodded. He indicated the collapsed entrance. "Some of the Narnians were trapped beneath the doorway when it collapsed. We need to retrieve them so that they can be buried properly and identified for the memorial service. Your people are the best with stonework in Narnia, and I knew that you would be able to clear the way quickly."

The Dwarves turned and studied the collapse, before conferring with each other in low tones for several seconds. Then the leader of the Red Dwarves looked back and nodded. "As you command, Majesty. It should only take a few hours, less with Wimbleweather's help."

Edmund nodded in satisfaction. Normally he would have been exchanging barbs with the Dwarves to goad them into finishing the task more quickly, but everyone was too weary for such games and the task was too solemn. "When you've removed the fallen, take them to their respective races for burial, and make sure their names are given to Tumnus for inclusion on the vigil list."

The Dwarves bowed. "As you command." With that, both groups of Dwarves headed straight for the collapse, waving the Giant over as he approached. It only took them a few seconds to get themselves organized, with some of the Dwarves climbing up onto the slanting slab that had been the lintel of the entrance in order to break it off into smaller pieces for Wimbleweather to remove.

Edmund watched them work for several moments, until he turned back to Lucy, confident that they had it well in hand and would have the doorway cleared efficiently in no time. Dwarves hated to see any kind of shoddy stonework, and given enough time, he knew that they would not only clear and shore up the collapse; they would repair it in a way that would strengthen and beautify the How's entrance.

He looked for his sisters and niece, finding that they had wandered a short distance away to confer with Oreius and Asterius about the guarded encampment that would be set up for the Telmarines that night. Although their weapons had been taken away, it was only prudent to place guards around the bivouac. The Narnians didn't trust the Telmarines, nor did the Telmarines trust the Narnians. Lucy was listening intently to what Asterius was telling her as he stepped over to her.

"The Telmarines are extremely uneasy by our presence," the Minotaur leader was saying, with a derisive snort. "They seem to think that we will slaughter them in the night."

"As King Cor if he would be willing to spare some of his men for sentry duty alongside the Narnians," Lucy told him. "They might feel more comfortable with the arrangements if they are guarded by men."

"Also, find some of the healers to move among them and treat their wounded along with ours," Susan added. They may have their own healers, but if we offer aid to their wounded, we can show them that we mean them no harm."

Asterius bowed. "Yes, My Queens." He turned to do their bidding, moving towards where King Cor and Prince Corin were organizing their men and checking to see who needed to be seen by their healers and who would need to be added to the roster of the dead for the memorial vigil.

"I'll accompany him to speak to Cor and Corin," Aislynn volunteered. "I know a little about how Cor and Corin deal with their sentry lines and such. I can help to set up the rotation before I find out what else needs to be taken care of." When Susan nodded in agreement, Narnia's princess turned and hurried off after Asterius to carry out her self-imposed task.

"Those were good ideas," Edmund complimented his sisters. "Anything that can help us prove that we intend to uphold Caspian's pledge of peace will go a long way towards easing the transition of authority back to us and to Caspian when he is crowned." He glanced back at the bustle around the entrance of the How, seeing the Dwarves breaking the rock apart faster than Wimbleweather could move it aside. It wouldn't take very long at all to clear the entrance, and for that he was thankful. He did wish, however, that the collapse had not claimed the lives of the innocent Narnians trapped underneath. _May you be welcomed into Aslan's country, cousins. Thank you for your sacrifice, and know that your names will always be among the most honored of our people._

After a long moment, he turned back to his sisters. "Come on. They've got things well in hand here, and I would like to check on Peter." He looked around one more time to satisfy himself that everything was being tended to. The Narnian healers were moving across the field, searching for any other wounded who had not been treated yet, Orieus and Asterius were taking care of the supervised camp for the Telmarines who had surrendered, Tumnus would be taking care of the initial details for the memorial vigil, the Archenland army was being handled by their monarch and commander, and the Narnian troops had their own set of orders that had been issued even before the battle had begun. He felt confident that everything was under control, and if some crisis did come up, one of the competent Narnians would be able to handle it, or they would seek out Aslan or himself. There really wasn't much more that he could do other than supervise, and at this point, with the Narnians working so efficiently on their assigned tasks, he would be in the way more than anything.

Lucy nodded in agreement. "All right." A look of concern caused her features to crease in a way that Edmund would normally have called charming (although never within her hearing, of course) if it had not been directed partially at him and partially towards Peter, even though their older brother wasn't present. "Ed, is everything really all right with Peter? I've never seen him so tired before."

"He went through a lot today, Lu," Edmund reminded her. "You know he's never enjoyed battle, even though he is quite intimidating on the field, and even though Rhindon is part of him. He also took a lot of serious blows from Miraz during the duel. If it hadn't been for your cordial, I honestly don't know if he would have made it through the battle in one piece. I'm worried about him, but Krisalyn will take good care of him."

"She always has," Susan agreed softly. "I think he was most troubled by the fact that there was no way to avoid the battle. Lu, you know the one thing that he hates most of all is having to lead the Narnians into battle, knowing that many of them will not survive. He's _good_ at being a leader, but he doesn't like having to ask the Narnians to lay down their lives, even though none of them would hesitate to do so."

Lucy sighed. "I know that you're both right…but…" she sighed again. "Have either of you noticed that, even before we left Narnia, Peter has been acting…oddly after other battles? The last skirmish he had with the Northern Giants, the pirate raids along the northeast the year before that, the hunters preying on Narnians in the southern forests? In every case, he seemed…hurt somehow, even when he never took a wound in any of those fights?" She frowned deeply. "And it wasn't just an emotional or mental hurt. He seemed like he was in physical pain for some reason."

"Lu, I think you're imagining it," Susan said, softly. "Why would Peter be in physical pain when he wasn't wounded?"

Edmund, however, raised his hand and stopped his older sister from continuing as he looked closely at his younger sister. "You've seen Peter hurt before and he wasn't wounded?" The image of Peter wincing in pain after he'd already taken Lucy's cordial earlier went through his mind. Peter had passed it off as nothing, but if Lucy had noticed it from before they ever left Narnia, then it was a problem that they would need to confront him about. The last thing Edmund wanted was to find out that his brother was suffering silently from an illness the same way that Krisalyn was.

"I thought I saw him trying to hide the fact that he was hurting a few times, but I wasn't really sure because it was so fleeting," Lucy said, confusion crossing her face at Edmund's probing. When her brother hastened his steps towards the How's side entrance, she glanced at her sister before they both hurried to catch up to him. "Edmund, what's wrong?"

Edmund didn't answer, but hurried through the tunnels until he reached the passage where their sleeping quarters were. He moved to the doorway of the room he and Peter shared with the Cor, Corin, and Caspian and looked in. But Peter wasn't in there. Drawing back in alarm, he looked at his sisters as they hurried up from behind him. "I can't find Peter. He's not in there."

"He has to be somewhere around here," Susan said quietly. "Maybe he went to bathe first?"

Lucy had looked into the next room and drew back to grasp Edmund's arm. "Calm down Ed, he's right here." She indicated the room where she and Susan were sleeping. She lowered her voice. "Kris is watching over him, but he's asleep."

Edmund stepped over to the doorway as Lucy held the curtain aside so he could look in. Just as she had said, Peter was sound asleep on one of the pallets, with Krisalyn sitting on the floor beside him. He started to enter, but Krisalyn looked up and gestured for him to stop outside. She rose to her feet and hurried over to the entrance.

"Sssh," she whispered softly. "Peter is fine, Edmund, but I need you to take your armor off first. I want him to have a night of uninterrupted sleep tonight, and all the clanking will wake him up."

"He's not hurt?" Edmund asked tightly, staring past her at his brother's limp figure.

"Only his heart. He's sick and weary of the death and the destruction, but that's partly because he was so tired. He'll be better in the morning, once he's had a solid night of sleep," his brother's wife assured him.

Edmund wasn't as sure. Oh, he knew that Kris was right, that Peter would be better after getting a good night's sleep - he always was. But it was the uninterrupted sleep that he wasn't sure about. He'd seen his brother in the aftermath of battles before, and Peter rarely managed to sleep the night through unless he was injured. The deaths from the battle often haunted his brother in the hours after the fighting was ended, and Peter usually woke to pace the camp or find some quiet place where he could sit and think. More often than not, Edmund would join him, providing silent, supportive company.

* * *

Krisalyn knew that her brother-in-law was not as certain as he tried to be when he nodded in agreement. But he turned to Lucy and Susan and allowed them to help him strip off his armor. She knew that Edmund was concerned about her husband, but she was determined to make sure that Peter wasn't disturbed for anything short of a major uprising from the Telmarines – which she was fairly sure wouldn't happen. He was so tired – he needed rest more than anything else, even comfort from his family.

As soon as Lucy and Susan finished stripping off his armor – a process that took much less time than putting it on in the first place – Edmund stepped through the curtain to his brother's side. He was still sweaty and blood-spattered, although not as much as Peter had been, but he didn't seem to care. Krisalyn watched him as he knelt down by his brother's side and ran a hand through the blonde locks that crowned Peter's youthfully handsome face.

"He was so brave today," Edmund whispered. "It is through Aslan's grace that he's here though. He took so many horrible shots from Miraz; I didn't think he would make it."

Lucy and Susan had entered the room as well and Krisalyn allowed the curtain to fall over the entryway to afford them whatever privacy was available to the royal family. Lucy moved over to her brothers and rested her small, delicate hands on Edmund's shoulders. "Aslan was watching over all of us today, Ed. We were brought here to save Narnia again, and he would never abandon us. Peter's skill with Rhindon helped, but you know as well as any of us that we came here to serve Aslan's will."

Edmund nodded and tipped his head to the side to catch his sister's hand between his shoulder and his cheek, even as he brushed Peter's blonde hair back again. "You're going to sit up with him tonight, Krisalyn?"

She nodded. "I had planned on it. There is still much that I must think about, and I was going to clean and polish his armor and sword."

"Keep a close eye on him," Edmund said quietly. "Peter…he probably won't sleep all night."

"He's exhausted, Edmund," Susan pointed out. "You saw him outside."

"I also know Peter. He almost never sleeps straight through the night after a battle. He'll probably wake up with nightmares, and he'll either want to pace the How, or he'll look for a quiet spot to sit and think while he decompresses from the nightmares and the things he's seen and done today," Edmund countered. "That's just Peter's way of coping."

"I'll stay with him," Krisalyn promised. "But you look weary as well, Edmund. You need sleep, just as Peter does. Your negotiation skills will be needed tomorrow, as will your experience as Narnia's High judge."

Edmund's reluctance and hesitation were clearly written on his face, as was his exhaustion. Usually he would have been better about hiding it, if not for the fact that he _was_ so tired. It was apparent that he wanted to stay with Peter, but while Krisalyn was willing to give up her sleeping place for her husband, Aislynn, Lucy, and Susan would be needed tomorrow, and they would all need to sleep.

"Edmund, go and rest," Krisalyn said firmly. "I promise, I will not leave Peter's side tonight, and you are as weary as he was. Get cleaned up and then find your pallet for the night. Peter is fine, and he will not be alone."

Edmund hesitated a moment longer, but he finally nodded and clambered back to his feet. He looked down at his brother, before he leaned over and gently kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you, Krisalyn. Peter is lucky to have your love and devotion."

Her brother-in-law's words sent a stab of guilt through her as she remembered how angry and upset she had been as recently as just before the battle began. She was just glad that she had heeded Aslan's advice and found a way to put her anger behind her. There was still a great deal that she and Peter would need to discuss, not about the past, but about their future. She knew it, and she had seen the realization in his eyes. Whatever their relationship had been in the past, it was doubtful that they could reclaim what they had once had. They were both two different people now, with different life experiences – with different life _expectancies_ – ahead of them. Narnia's leadership….well, a lot of that would depend on Aslan's judgment.

But that was for tomorrow and the days to come. For tonight, it was a time to rest and celebrate the victory. Narnia was free again, and that was all that mattered. She watched her in-laws leave the room to get cleaned up, knowing that Susan and Lucy would be returning, and Aislynn would no doubt show up in a few minutes once she had finished attending to whatever tasks had been given to her.

She stepped over to the side and quietly gathered up the armor that she had taken off of him just a short time ago. The tunic, trousers, and tabard would need to be laundered and hung out to dry, but she could clean most of the blood off the plate, chainmail, and his sword, shield, and scabbard. She brought it and the water and rags that she had used earlier to clean Peter's hands and face to his bedside. She carefully settled down into her self-appointed place at his head and picked up the first of his sabatons. The water wasn't perfectly clean, but she was only going to clean off the blood and make sure the armor was laid out to dry properly. Polishing it would take time and supplies that she didn't have at the moment.

Bending her head, she set to work, hoping to have everything clean and dry so they could be polished in the morning, since she suspected that Peter would want his armor to wear when they moved to reclaim Cair Paravel.

* * *

_**Swing, cut, parry, dodge, thrust. Spin left, block, shove, and advance. Cut up, block, and stab.**_

_He was back in the battle, facing wave after wave of Telmarine infantry. Beside him, he could see Edmund guarding his back, and Susan a short distance away, employing her bow effectively. Cor and Corin had just made their charge from the tree line, but the Telmarines hadn't turned to flee as they had hoped. Instead, they were standing their ground and fighting all the harder. They seemed to know that this was Narnia's last stand, and they were determined to take Narnia down forever. It didn't matter that Miraz was dead. The death of their new King seemed to only fuel their determination to stop the Narnians from regaining control of their country._

"_Cavalry, to me!" Peter heard Cor yell from nearby, where he was mounted on his fierce warsteed. He glanced over as he dispatched his opponent with a swift stab that snuck past the man's guard, and saw the Archenland King slashing to either side at opponents that were pressing in on him, even as he wheeled his stallion in a tight circle, to keep any of the enemy from being able to cut his horse out from underneath him._

_In answer to their King's command, the Archenland cavalry began pressing their attacks to dispatch their opponents and reach his side. But Cor was too heavily pressed. Even as Peter raised Rhindon to block a strike at his head, he watched in horror as one of the Telmarines landed a strike to the rear leg of Cor's horse. The stallion collapsed and sent Cor to the ground, where he was immediately set upon by the Telmarines. He was trapped and unable to defend himself, and moments later, Cor lay dead at the feet of the men who had hewed him down._

"_Cor!" Peter heard Corin scream as he witnessed his brother's fall. Peter fought all the harder, trying to reach the prince – the new King of Archenland – before he did something foolish, but he was too far away. Before Peter could stop it, Corin also lay dead, just a few feet from where his brother had fallen._

_Whirling in outrage, Peter laid about him with his sword. Rhindon flashed silver, each stroke followed by a spray of blood whenever it connected with something. Before long, Peter was soaked in the blood of the men who foolishly challenged him. An arm, legs, heads… various parts of the enemy lay everywhere around him, as Narnia's Sword was unleashed against her foes._

_But for every man that fell under Rhindon's shining steel, it seemed that two came to replace him. Where had the Telmarines amassed such a great army in such a short time? Narnia was a small country, compared to Archenland, which was narrow but long, or Calormen, which encompassed twice the size of Narnia and Archenland put together, but it still took time to rally troops from its far corners. Peter didn't know how widely spread the Telmarines were, but they shouldn't have been able to rally this size of an army in the short time they'd had, even if they'd begun doing so from the time Caspian first fled from his uncle's guards._

_Peter spun, Rhindon arcing in a swift circle to claim another life, as he sought Edmund, Susan, and Caspian. Caspian was nearby, hard-pressed even with the help of Trumpkin and Reepicheep. But again, Peter was too far away to prevent the tragedy that he saw looming. Caspian was trapped on the edge of the crater that they had created, and the men pressing him attacked simultaneously, forcing him over the edge of the crater to fall to the ground below. Caspian yelled as he fell, but the yell was abruptly cut off – and Caspian didn't rise from the floor of the crater._

_Peter stepped sideways, working his way close enough to the edge to see the bottom of the crater, without being at risk for falling in himself. He slashed out with his sword, cutting himself a small space and giving himself a chance to breathe as he looked down to find Caspian. What he saw filled him with horror and outrage, even more than witnessing the deaths of Cor and Corin._

_Caspian lay sprawled on the floor of the crater, lying half on, half off of the rocky debris that was the result of the pillars that had been smashed to cave in the ground. Blood was pooling beneath his head and his eyes were wide open and staring – empty and lifeless. The rock beneath his head told the story, as did the blood smeared across its surface._

"_Peter!" Susan screamed suddenly, and Peter whirled around, looking for his sister. She was less than fifty yards away from him, set upon by two ugly, burly Telmarines. They had her pinned to the ground, laughing as they tore at her skirts._

"_Susan!" Peter yelled, rushing heedlessly forward, trying to reach her before the Telmarines did anything to hurt her. But despite all his efforts, he felt like he was moving through molasses. He couldn't reach her, and he couldn't take his eyes off her as the men ripped at his sister's clothing before they seized her and began dragging her away, no doubt to do unspeakable things to her before they killed her._

"_Edmund!" Peter screamed, hoping that his brother was closer and could do something. Why was this happening? Where was Aslan? Had he abandoned them because they had disappointed him? Why hadn't Lucy and Aislynn brought him to their aid yet? Was he going to have to watch everyone he cared about and loved die, and be unable to aid any of them? "Edmund!"_

_Susan was beyond his reach. He couldn't get to her and she had vanished from his sight. He looked around frantically for his brother. The last time he had seen Edmund, his younger brother had been fighting near Susan, in order to protect her from something just like this. Edmund wouldn't have allowed the men to take Susan without a fight, but where was his brother?_

"_Edmund!" Peter screamed again. Where was his brother? "Edmund!"_

Peter wore with a start, his brother's name on his lips. "Edmund!" His hand went to his side, reaching for Rhindon. Before he could lay his hand on the hilt, something plowed into him and covered his mouth, knocking him over.

Peter bucked against the weight, throwing it off of him. "Narnia! To me!" He could see Rhindon's hilt out of the corner of his eye, the lion-headed pommel distinctive in the dim light. Whatever had tackled him was lying nearby, and before it had a chance to recover, he lunged, throwing his weight across it as he stretched out his hand for his sword.

He seized the blade and tore it out of the sheath, bringing the blade around in a flashing stroke to rest at his attacker's throat. His other hand was pinning his attacker's hands to the ground above its head, as he straddled the creature to prevent it from striking a second time.

"Peter! Calm down, it's just me!" a soft voice implored. "It's all right!"

The voice was familiar and he blinked, focusing on his attacker. Long, soft sable hair streaked with silver pooled on the ground next to his hand, and wide, violet eyes that appeared almost luminous in the darkness stared up at him from a pale, lined face. He blinked again and could only stare into those eyes as he slowly became aware of his surroundings.

"Peter, it's all right. It's Krisalyn. I'm not going to hurt you."

_Krisalyn?_ Peter's mind was still foggy, but as the name sank in, he recognized the violet eyes and sable hair. He blinked again several times and then blushed as he realized that he had pinned her to the ground with her hands trapped over her head and Rhindon at her throat while he sat astride her waist.

Horrified, he scrambled to get off of her, tossing Rhindon aside as quickly as he could. She sat up as soon as she could, and quickly wrapped her arms around him. "It's all right Peter. You're in the How, the battle is over. Narnia is safe."

"Kris?" Peter felt the adrenaline rushing through him begin to fade, leaving him shaking with the realization that he had almost killed his wife. One second more, and he would have pressed Rhindon into her throat out of pure reflex, and Krisalyn would be dead.

Throwing up his arms to break her grip on him, he scrambled to his feet and raced out of the room, plowing headlong into Edmund, Caspian, and the two Archenlanders who had heard the commotion and come to see what was going on with weapons drawn. They tumbled to the floor in a heap, but before anyone else could recover their senses. Peter was up on his feet and racing down the tunnel.

He had to get away.


	34. Chapter 33: Tears and Tasks

**Author's Note: *creeps out of hiding, ready to dodge rotten vegetables* Oh my, word…I am so very sorry this chapter has taken so long to write. I honestly did not realize that it had been a _year_ since I last posted, but my real life has become so hectic, I have had almost no time to write in _any_ of my fandoms. I can only beg for your forgiveness and try to promise that this won't happen again! I'm thinking there will only be a few more chapters (maybe 5?) left on this story, but it really depends on where my muse goes with it.**

**On a happier note, thanks to: **Quathis, lovely149, Elizabeth Zara, Beloved Daughter, **and** Willow Dryad **for the reviews for the last chapter. Hopefully I didn't lose any of you!**

* * *

_**Chapter Thirty-Three: Tears and Tasks**_

Edmund didn't know what he had been expecting when he woke to the sound of his brother screaming, but it had not been to end up on the floor of the How in an undignified heap, with Caspian, Cor, and Corin on top of him, and his brother sprinting down the corridor as fast as he could. Somehow he was tangled up with the other royals, with Cor's head resting on his chest; Corin sprawled across his legs; and Caspian lying on top of both twins. Their swords were lying on the ground all around them, and it was a miracle that no one had been injured by the sharp blades when they'd gone down in a pile.

"Aslan's Mane," Cor groaned as he reached up to rub his head. "What just happened?"

"I don't know, but I do know that I can't move," Corin responded. He shifted, unintentionally crushing Edmund deeper into the floor. "Your Highness – Caspian – can you please move?"

Caspian slowly levered himself off of the rest of them, shaking his head as he sat up. Once he was upright, the other three were able to sit up as well. "Was that King Peter?" the Telmarine asked. "What was he running from?"

"Edmund?" Krisalyn was standing in the doorway, holding the curtain aside. "Are you alright?" Lucy, Aislynn, and Susan were right behind the elder Queen, all of them looking sleep-mussed and as confused as Edmund felt.

Edmund nodded. "Yes. We heard Peter's scream and –" He suddenly scrambled to his feet. "Peter! He ran out of here!"

Krisalyn nodded. "He had a nightmare, and he thought I was attacking him when I tried to calm him down." She looked repentant. "I'm sorry I doubted your knowledge of him. I've never seen him like that before. Even when the two of you have come back from a campaign…he's never had a nightmare like that."

"We need to find him," Edmund said. "He shouldn't be alone. He'll have gone somewhere quiet to think."

"Even as busy as the How is, there are a lot of corners and side tunnels where he could have privacy," Caspian commented. "The How is enormous, and if he went outside, he could be anywhere."

Edmund shook his head. "He wouldn't have gone outside without taking Rhindon with him, and I didn't see it in his hand when he crashed into us. He wasn't thinking clearly, but Peter never goes anywhere without Rhindon. It's a habit and an instinct."

"Rhindon is right here." Krisalyn held the gleaming sword by the hilt, carefully, since the blade was unsheathed. "But he was truly panicked Edmund. I don't think he would have even considered taking Rhindon with him, since he nearly killed me with it."

"Then it's even more important that we find him as soon as possible," Edmund said firmly, although a part of his mind filed away the fact that Peter had nearly killed Krisalyn. If his brother had been that unaware of his surroundings and his actions to nearly kill his beloved wife... "The last thing that Peter needs tonight is to be alone with his thoughts, but I do not want him wandering around the camp unarmed."

"Edmund, Peter is in no danger," Lucy said, despite the fact that her eyes were still heavy with sleep. "Aslan is here. He wouldn't let any harm befall Peter."

The Valiant Queen's words held the ring of conviction and truth, and Edmund felt some of his panic ebb. He was so used to looking after Peter after a battle…it was second-nature to worry about his brother now. Oddly enough, Edmund had never found his sleep troubled by nightmares of battle. Perhaps it was because, no matter how horrible a battle might be, it couldn't compare to the nightmarish time that he had spent as a prisoner of the White Witch, before Aslan had sacrificed himself. But whatever the reason, when he dreamed, it was never of the battles he had fought or the friends he had seen die. Always, always, _she_ was the one who haunted his nights – but fortunately, those dreams were rare now. Although in age almost no time had passed since those days, Edmund's mindset was different than it had been when they had first entered Narnia. He had lived an entire lifetime since then, and time – or the perception of time, anyway – had dulled the memories.

Ironically enough, the same had never held true for Peter. Narnia's High King had always been forced to relive the battles in his nightmares. Although he rarely confided in Edmund as to the exact details of those horrendous dreams, the way Peter's face would be white for hours after waking up from one, the way he would shake when Edmund would hold him, and the dullness of the blue eyes as he thought through things had all been enough to tell Edmund exactly what types of horrors his brother would live in his dreams. Edmund was fairly confident that it had to do with Peter's role as a protector and father-figure to the rest of them, but other than simply being there for Peter if he wanted to talk, Edmund had never been able to figure out how to help Peter overcome his night terrors.

Taking a deep breath, Edmund nodded. "All right. Let's split up and find Peter. He'll be looking for some place that's secluded and quiet more than likely. If you find him, try to convince him to come back, but if he won't return, send word with one of the Narnians and I'll come."

The rest of the monarchs nodded and headed off in different directions. Aslan's How was vast, and there were many small side tunnels that would need to be searched for the missing High King.

* * *

Krisalyn paused long enough to retrieve Rhindon's sheath and put the blade away before she left the chambers in search of her husband. While she had never seen him so distraught before, save for the time when they had lost their first child, she knew enough about him that she felt she could puzzle out where Peter had gone. He had always preferred the outdoors when he needed time and space to think, often spending hours wandering the gardens of Cair Paravel or working out his frustrations against the pells in the training yards. Odds were, although the How had no gardens, that Peter would be somewhere outside. After the battle she doubted that Peter would be doing any kind of weapons practice, and she didn't think he would have wandered over to the Telmarine encampment. Most likely, he would be up on one of the exterior levels of the How. She would look there first.

Taking hold of Rhindon, she hurried out into the corridors, winding her way through them until she reached the ramp that led to the upper levels. She would check each level thoroughly before she moved on. The exterior of the How was roughly circular, and each level was smaller than the ones below it, so it wouldn't take long to clear each level.

The first two levels were empty except for the sentries and none of them had seen Peter that night. But when she moved up to the third level, she spotted him right away, sitting on a small boulder looking out over the ravaged landscape and the small fires that had been lit so that the wounded and dead could be tended to.

"Peter?" she said quietly.

Her husband looked over his shoulder at her, but didn't say anything before he turned his attention back to the landscape. She moved over and knelt down beside him, resting Rhindon on the ground beside her as she placed her hand on his knee. "What troubles you, my lord?" she breathed.

"How can you ask me that?"

The anguish in his voice struck her sharply. Never had she heard such raw despair in his voice before. This was not the confident warrior, tactician, and commander who had led an army to victorious battle that day. He was not the wise, skilled negotiator who had ruled his people justly and well for fifteen years, and he was not Aslan's Chosen High King, entrusted with the well-being of Narnia and granted authority over all of Narnia's rulers, past, present, and future. This was a young man, traumatized by the things that he had seen that day, forced to carry a heavy burden on his shoulders.

"How can I not ask you what's wrong, when I see the man I love so distraught?" Krisalyn countered calmly.

"Kris, I almost killed you!" Peter snapped, the horror and pain of what had almost happened coloring his voice, as he jumped to his feet.

"But you didn't," Krisalyn soothed. "Peter, you realized what was happening and you stopped yourself. I don't blame you for that, and I never will. I should have been more careful about approaching you. I was trying to keep you from waking everyone else up, and I acted too rashly and didn't consider my actions and how they would appear to you." She paused for a moment, wondering if she should broach the subject of his nightmares. "I've never seen you like that before. What troubled you so much?"

Peter stared at her, his blue eyes troubled and tormented, seeming to swirl with all the emotions that she suspected he couldn't express. No doubt it was in an effort to protect her, but she had never tolerated that from him before, and she would not allow him to wallow in misery and anguish now. She clasped his hand – cold from the chill of the night air – in hers and pulled him down to the ground beside her, where she wrapped him in a warm embrace and pulled his head to rest on her shoulder. "Talk to me, beloved. I cannot help you if you won't tell me what's wrong."

"Everything…the bloodshed, the war…"

"Peter, one battle doesn't make a war. You and Edmund, Susan, and Lucy _prevented_ a war. The four of you have set Narnia free again, just as you did from the Witch," Krisalyn pointed out. "Death and bloodshed…those things couldn't be stopped. Narnia was oppressed by people who didn't understand or take the time to learn. If the Telmarines had come to Narnia in friendship and not invasion, I would have welcomed them – but they looked at our people and saw uncivilized monsters."

"I put Lucy and Aislynn in danger, and Aislynn got hurt."

"They _volunteered_ to go, Peter. Both of them knew the risks and were willing to take them. And Aislynn wasn't hurt that badly. Yes, she was scarred, but that was a mild price to pay. She could have been hurt much worse, or even killed. But she survived, and Aslan protected her."

Peter lifted his head and stared at her, his eyes showing his doubt and the emotions he was wrestling with. Krisalyn stroked his hair back from his eyes with her hand as she continued. "Peter, you did everything that you could have done, and you succeeded. I know Aslan is proud of you for what you accomplished today. I _don't_ know what horrors your mind delivered to you tonight, but I would have you share them with me so that you can set your mind at ease and get some rest."

"I would not wish to pass them on to you, Kris. Despite everything that we've been through, you're still good and innocent in a way that I will never be. You've never been forced to take a life, to see the life ebb from the eyes of the one you've killed. You've never been coated in the blood of the people who've died on your blade."

Krisalyn sighed in exasperation at her husband's stubbornness. "Peter, I told you long ago that I would not tolerate you trying to shelter me. I may not have killed someone, but that doesn't mean that I am not strong enough to understand the things that torment you. I ruled Narnia for nearly five years after you disappeared. I've seen many things in that time that I will not speak of now, and I was trained to make difficult decisions. My strength can be yours if you take it."

Peter shook his head and pulled away from her hold. "Kris, I cannot taint you that way. I don't know how you can even be around me after I almost killed you tonight."

"Because I _love_ you, Peter. You weren't aware of what you were doing, and you stopped yourself in time. I've made as many mistakes in this relationship as you have, more in fact, yet you never stopped loving me, even when my bitterness threatened to consume me."

"And that is the nature of being human, dear ones," a rumbling voice said from behind them. They both turned to see Aslan standing in the entrance to the How, watching them with his great golden eyes.

"Aslan!" Peter started to scramble into a position where he could drop to his knees before the Great Lion, but Aslan shook his mane and stepped closer to them.

"Do not bow to me, High King," the Lion commanded gently. "Accept your wife's comfort, for that is what you need most right now." Peter hesitated, his need to show his respect for Aslan warring with the Lion's command in his mind, before he relaxed back into Krisalyn's arms and allowed her to wrap him in the cloak around her shoulders.

"You speak with great wisdom, my Steadfast daughter. Both of you have erred in your relationship, but you are both mature and wise. Together, your strength is greater than when you act alone. You are joined by a bond of love, and though that bond may strain and stretch, it will not break unless you allow it to. High King, you have always been a warrior, and it is your compassion for your people that brings you this grief, as well as your strong bond with Narnia herself. Daughter of Eve, your pain came from what you viewed as a betrayal and a broken oath, but you have risen above that pain and it has made you stronger for it."

Aslan considered both of them with his great golden eyes. "You would be wise to accept and lean on the strength of your lover, High King. She has earned her wisdom and strength through fierce emotional battles, and while she may never be the warrior that you have so often proved to be, her heart and her soul are as strong as Rhindon's steel. The source of your pain does not matter. What matters is that you are willing to share it with another, especially if the other is willing to shoulder the burden alongside you. Speaking of your fears and the horrors that haunt your dreams will not taint the Queen, for her strength is enough to banish them. Difficult decisions lay ahead of you, and you must be ready to face and weather them together."

Before either of them could react to that proclamation, Aslan turned and vanished back into the How, leaving the two of them alone on the ledge, Peter still wrapped in Krisalyn's cloak and arms. Part of her still ached at the knowledge of how different they had become. Likely, this was the most intimate that they would ever be again.

But, she found that she was slowly coming to accept that. She still loved Peter with every fiber of her being, but love didn't necessarily require physical intimacy. If this and the occasional kiss were as far as they could take the relationship from this moment on, it could only serve to strengthen their bond even more. The change would simply necessitate that they be more open to each other with their words and feelings. There had been times in the past when she had felt that Peter would keep some of the things he was feeling from her, whether to protect her, or simply because he was so conscientious of his responsibilities as the High King, but she had never pressed him on them. Perhaps that failing had been the reason why his apparent abandonment had cut her so deeply. Perhaps, despite their love and the friendship it was built upon, they hadn't had a relationship that was as close as it could – should – have been.

Whether that was true or if it was simply her perception of their relationship in the past, they both needed to go forward from this point and not allow the same mistakes to cloud their relationship in the future, especially since she didn't know how much time they had left. By all rights, it was Aislynn's time to rule. It was true that while the experience and reputation that Peter and his siblings had would be invaluable in helping to forge a peace between the Narnians and Telmarines, the time of the Four Monarchs had passed. The Narnia they knew and loved was all but gone, and Krisalyn was certain that a new ruler was needed for the new society that would rise from the ashes of this battle. But that was not in her hands, nor was it her decision. She still, technically, held the reins of power as her husband's regent, but she was more than willing to pass them on to Aislynn, as she had pledged twenty-five years ago.

"Peter…" Krisalyn began before she paused. How did she even go about persuading him to share his nightmares with her? Peter had always seen her in a certain light, as his comment about her being good and innocent compared to him had shown. He had always acknowledged her strengths and her weaknesses equally, but he hadn't been there for many of the difficult choices she'd had to make during his absence. As his Queen, she'd had very little to do with the running of the Kingdom – Peter and his siblings had handled all of it with a flair and an ease that came from being equal in power and status. In many ways, her royal training had been worthless while she stood at his side. Although she'd been able to teach him some things because they had assumed the rule of Narnia and learned by experience whereas that she had learned from being born to rule, she'd had very little to do with the important decision-making before he left. It was with that knowledge and memory that he was seeing her now.

"Edmund mentioned that you often have these nightmares after a battle and need to be alone," she began. When he nodded slowly, she thought carefully, trying to word her racing thoughts in a way that would cut to the heart of the problem. "Are you reliving the battle, or are your dark thoughts causing you to see things that didn't really happen?" He started in surprise, pulling back from her, and she knew that she had pierced through to the heart of his nightmares. "You see what _could_ have happened, what you feared would happen, don't you?"

He nodded, slowly. "Usually…people whom I love die."

This was something that she could work with. "Peter, only a few days after you left on the hunt, I had a horrible dream." She sensed his interest, although he didn't speak. "I was back on the day you left, and I bid you goodbye, but just after you left I noticed dark clouds on the horizon. Something about those clouds unnerved me, and I rode after you, screaming for you to come back. When I finally caught up to you, you acted very dismissive of my fears, and you told me that you were going home, that Narnia had no further need of you." Just the memory of that dream, which had frequently haunted her nightmares after she had realized that Peter wasn't coming back, was enough to make her shiver.

Peter swiftly embraced her. "I would never say anything like that, Krisalyn."

"In my dream you did. I know it was a nightmare, because I love you and I know you, but it frightened me and it has haunted me for years," Krisalyn admitted. "I also used to dream that a decision I made would lead to the Telmarines learning that Aislynn and I still lived and them hunting us down to break the royal bloodline and give them control of Narnia forever." She relaxed into his embrace for a moment, feeling the strength of his arms and the comfort of his love, before she pulled back. "What falsehoods did you see this night?"

Peter was quiet for a long moment. "I was back on the battlefield, after the duel. Cor and Corin had just made their charge, but the Telmarines didn't back down or flee. As I watched, Cor was pulled from his horse and killed, and when Corin tried to get to him, he was killed as well. Then I watched Caspian die, and I watched Susan being dragged away by two of the Telmarines, and Edmund and Lucy were nowhere to be seen…" Peter hung his head. "I just…I just knew, that it was my fault. That my plan hadn't been good enough, that I hadn't been strong or fast enough to save them, that Narnia had fallen…"

Krisalyn had to struggle not to react to the images as he spoke. To be strong for him meant sympathizing with him, but not giving into the pictures that his words evoked in her mind, even though what he described caused her horror as well. How to convince him that it was only a nightmare, and it had not and would not come to pass? She shifted slightly and her foot bumped against Rhindon's sheath. An idea struck her and she reached down for the blade, drawing it carefully out of the sheath before she pressed the hilt into Peter's hand. "Peter, what does this blade mean to you?"

Peter looked up at her, puzzled for a moment, before he turned his gaze to study the blade that had been his since his second day in Narnia. "I…I guess strength in battle, the power of a fighter who can wield it properly." He studied the shining steel and the gold pommel shaped like Aslan's head. "Aslan's blessings and the confidence that He has in me."

"Exactly. Aslan's blessings have always driven you through life, Peter, even when you didn't know it. He's always been there for you, and he saw to it that you received this blade, knowing that you would use it to ensure Narnia's freedom and safety." Krisalyn clamped her hand around Peter's on the hilt. "Peter, you have never lost a battle when you held Rhindon. This sword is a reflection of your strength, your ability, and your power. This blade has shed blood, but it has been the blood of those that would have harmed Narnia or her people. Mourn for their deaths if you must, but don't ever regret what you had to do to fulfill your responsibilities to Narnia. If Aslan didn't believe in you, He never would have named you High King or accepted your oath to him."

Peter blinked as she mentioned the oath, and Krisalyn smiled. "I know about your oath, Peter. You forget that I was raised to believe in Aslan, and I know what our love for Him can compel us to do. I don't know the details of what you swore, and I don't care. It is between you and Him. But this blade, no matter what lives it has ended or what injury it has caused, will always symbolize the things that you must do, whether you fight for Narnia's safety, or whether it remains sheathed during times of peace. The weight of the blade will always remind you of the weight of your responsibility."

She released his hand and laid her hand against his cheek. "Don't carry the weight of 'what ifs' or 'might have beens', Peter. Don't let your fears drive you from a peaceful night's sleep. Rejoice in the fact that you saved Narnia today, and that everyone you love made it through relatively unscathed. Yes, there was loss and injury, but you and your siblings will stand before Narnia's people and honor their bravery and their sacrifice, and they will forever be remembered in Narnia's history as having been willing to give everything, even their lives, to preserving our home. If you, Susan, Edmund, or Lucy had fallen, you would receive the same honor."

Peter closed his eyes and relaxed fully into her touch. He didn't move for the longest time, until Krisalyn felt moisture on her palm and realized that Peter was weeping, softly. She embraced him again, and allowed him to cry, rocking him gently as he released all of the fear and emotion that he had bottled up inside of himself in order to get through the battle and the duel. They were not violent tears, but quiet ones, and she knew he was taking her advice. He was weeping for the lives that had been lost that day, for the destruction wrought on the country he loved so deeply, and out of pure relief that everyone he loved had survived and would greet the morning with him. Krisalyn simply held him and allowed him to cry, even as his tears soaked her dress. It didn't matter. What mattered was that at this moment, Peter was allowing himself to be weak and letting her be strong for him. When this cathartic outpouring had ceased, he would be able to sleep in peace for the rest of the night, and would wake strong and refreshed, ready to do what was necessary to ensure a peaceful transition back to Narnian rule.

She didn't comment, nor try to shush his tears, but just held him and watched as dawn began to creep over the eastern horizon. The sky slowly lightened, turning from black and star-spangled to the warm purples and gold as the Sun began to make his first appearance, rising from Aslan's Country to bring his light to Narnia once again. Today would be a day of renewal, rather than bloodshed. Today peace would reign over Narnia for the first time in twenty-one years.

Slowly, she became aware that Peter had stopped his weeping and was now only resting beside her, exhausted from the outpouring of emotion in the night. She was tempted to simply let him rest against her, but given how hard he had fought the previous day, it would not be good for his health. So she quietly nudged him until he was sitting upright beside her again. His hand was still clenched around Rhindon's hilt, the sheath still resting at her feet.

"Come, my lord. Let us see you back to your proper rest and reassure King Edmund that you are well again," Krisalyn said lightly, falling back on the more formal language that they often used when they were alone, as she carefully pried the sword from his hand and slid it back into its proper place.

"Lion's Mane, Ed is going to be frantic," Peter murmured. "He's always been so good about caring for me after battles. He and I need to have a long talk when we can find a moment to spare today."

"That will be for later," Krisalyn said firmly. "Now you need rest. It would not do for Narnia's High King to fall asleep when he rides to reclaim his castle and reestablish his rule." She rose to her feet, feeling the aches in her bones from a night spent outside. The shoulder and arm of her gown was soaked from Peter's tears, but she ignored the chill on her skin as the gentle morning breeze brushed past her. As she turned to go inside, she paused and looked back at the early dawn. She directed Peter's gaze to the horizon. "There is a reason that the sun rises in the East, from Aslan's Country, Peter. With each dawn, a new day is born, and hope will always ride on the wings of the Sun. There cannot be hope without the light, for hope is the light's truest companion. Think of that when the shadows of night torment you, and remember that even in the horror of the battles, hope cannot be extinguished forever. It was a flame of hope that kept me from giving in completely to my grief over your disappearance. We cannot bring those who were lost back, but we will stand together and remember them, and their light will forever live on. Take joy in the fact that they have found peace in Aslan's Country."

Peter leaned up and swiftly kissed her cheek before he gazed at her with his blue eyes filled with admiration. "When did you become so wise, my lady-Queen?"

"I always was wise," she teased him back, grateful that her hunch was right and he seemed able to put his nightmares behind him. "You just didn't see it, High King."

Peter laughed softly, before he took her hand and they walked hand in hand back inside the How. The frantic activity of the day before, and the aftermath of the battle had ceased and the corridors were quiet as all of those who could be spared took time for some rest. Although there would be no battle this day if they were fortunate, there was still much that had to be done before they could march on Cair Paravel. Krisalyn felt a sudden stab of longing as she recalled the palace that she had made her home for over a decade. While she had not lived there as long as she had lived at Anvard, Cair Paravel had become home to her as much as Anvard or her parents' estate in the north of Archenland had been.

She wondered if Aislynn would remember it once they stepped inside. Until learning that she was Narnia's princess, Krisalyn had told her that she had always lived in Anvard, even when Aislynn had spoken of dreams where she stood on a balcony looking out at the sea. How much had the Telmarines changed in twenty-five years? She didn't think that they could have changed much of the structure of the palace, but the furnishings, tapestries, and treasures had no doubt been changed, repurposed, or looted. She wondered if the treasure room where she had hidden the four monarchs' belongings and the things she could not take with her when they fled had been found, or if their things had survived the two decades undisturbed.

Lucy and Susan were waiting at the entrance to the ladies' chamber when Krisalyn and Peter returned, and both Queens rushed forward to hug their brother. He embraced each of them warmly. Krisalyn stayed back, allowing her husband and in-laws a moment of closeness.

* * *

Peter held each of his sisters closely for a moment, knowing that he had frightened and worried them. His problem with battle-nightmares had never impacted on them before, and he had always tried to be the strong one for the rest of his family.

"_Peter, I trust you will look after the others while I'm away," William said as he finished putting together his knapsack. He would be leaving the next morning to serve as a medic on the war front, and he had called Peter into his bedroom to speak to him._

_Peter nodded. "I will, Father. You have my word."_

_William smiled at his eldest son. Peter had always been a studious, thoughtful boy. He had always played protector for his siblings and he treasured them closely. They loved him as much as he loved them, so William had no doubt that Peter would handle them well. "You'll be the head of the household, Peter. Listen to and help your Mum, yes?"_

"_Yes, sir."_

_William hesitated as he tied the flap of his knapsack shut. "Peter, sit with me for a moment. I need to talk to you about something, man-to-man." He sat down on the edge of the bed and waited while Peter joined him. "The war is going to drag on for a while. I know they're already talking about a quick victory in the press, but the Germans have gained a great deal of territory in a relatively short time. Reclaiming all that land will not be easy, and the Germans have had time to mobilize and train. I might not be home for several years. You might very well be a grown man by the time I return."_

_Peter nodded solemnly. "I understand."_

_William shook his head. "I'm not talking about taking care of your siblings anymore, Peter. This is about you. Your mum and I have tried to raise you to be a good man, and I trust that we've given you a sense of right and wrong and a need to protect your family. That's not what I'm concerned about. You're entering a time of your life when you'll start feeling things, and those feelings may cause you to act in unusual ways." William looked closely at his blonde son, who looked so much like him. "Many of those feelings will revolve around women, because you're going to be entering a point in your life when you'll want to start thinking about finding a wife."_

_Peter looked surprised as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him. "I hadn't thought I would even start looking until after University."_

"_And that's a good thing," William assured him. "But you may feel other things, especially if you see a pretty girl, and I want you to remember that no matter what your mind or body may want you to do, you should **always** treat a lady with respect. It doesn't matter if it's Susan, or Lucy, or your Mum, or if it's a stranger on the street. You're a man, it's your duty and honor to respect women and protect them. Understood?"_

_Peter nodded solemnly. "I promise, Father."_

_William smiled and cuffed him lightly on the side of the head. "Good man."_

And so Peter had. He'd followed his father's advice and always treated the women he met with courtesy and honor. Even after becoming the High King, if they threw themselves at him to try to get him to marry them, he always treated them politely. He and his father had talked for a long time that afternoon, and William had explained things to him that, in many ways had absolutely come true. Not knowing how long he'd be gone, William had suggested that Peter also spend time with Edmund, so that when Edmund reached Peter's age, Peter might be able to help guide him through the same things. And so Peter had. In Narnia, the first time, he and Edmund had both grown up, in more ways than one. Now Peter could understand, with the clarity of having lived as an adult, what his father had been speaking of that day. He understood what it was like to be intimate with a woman, to be driven by his body's passions. It had, in fact, been Peter who had given the same talk to Edmund that William had given to Peter, amid much laughter and embarrassment on both their parts. He didn't know how he and Edmund would explain _that_ to William when Edmund again reached the age where their father would feel the need to discuss this with his younger son.

Forcing the thoughts aside, he focused on Lucy and Susan again, squeezing Lucy a little bit tighter for a moment.

"Edmund, Aislynn, Caspian and the twins are still searching the How for you," Lucy said. "You frightened us, Peter." His little sister had her fact buried in the fabric of his tunic, trying to draw comfort from him to calm the fear his emotional reaction had given them.

Peter dropped a kiss on her head. "I'm sorry, Lu. Really."

Susan eyed him closely. "Are you alright now, Peter?"

Peter nodded. "I think so." He looked at his sisters and then at his wife, who was standing back a ways to give them some degree of privacy. "It's nearly dawn. I'm sorry about depriving all of you of sleep after the day we had yesterday, but we should consider making plans for today. If we intend to march on Cair Paravel, we'll need to deal with the Telmarines and there will be a great deal of organization to attend to if we want to avoid further bloodshed."

"There's still time for you to get another hour or so of sleep, Peter," Krisalyn suggested as she stepped a little closer. "Your sleep last night was not what I would have called restful."

Peter shook his head. "I'm wide awake now, and there is a lot to do today. I slept enough, even if it wasn't restful." He shot a smile at his wife. "Besides, I'm looking forward to sleeping in a real bed tonight once we get to Cair Paravel."

Krisalyn was about to respond, but a call from further down the hallway drowned out her words as Edmund, Aislynn, and the other three royals rushed down the corridor. "Peter!"

Peter quickly embraced his brother and his daughter, and nodded to Caspian, Cor, and Corin. "I'm alright, Ed. I just needed time to think. Krisalyn and Aslan helped me through my nightmares. I'm sorry I worried you." He looked at the Archenland royals and the Telmarine prince. "I'm grateful for your concern. You all fought hard yesterday and I'm sorry I woke you."

Cor waved off the apology. "After what we saw and experienced yesterday, I would say you were entitled to some night terrors, High King."

The others nodded in agreement and Peter only nodded. It was nice to have such loyal, understanding friends. He knew all to well that if this had happened at school, his dorm mates would not have been as understanding about being woken up. But here…they were all warriors, and they all understood the mental turmoil that battles brought.

Peter sighed. "It's nearly dawn, and we have many things that we need to take care of before we prepare to march to Cair Paravel."

"You have a plan in mind, Pete?" Edmund asked.

"First we need to finish any details from the battle," Peter said. "I'm sure the healers have taken care of the wounded, but we'll need to make the rounds of the armies and assist where we're needed. After that, I'd like to hold a formal audience with what is left of the Telmarine leadership."

Caspian frowned. "Why?"

"We need to assure them that we intend to hold to the pledge that you made to them yesterday," Peter replied.

"They surrendered to us," Caspian said, puzzled. "Why do we need to take the time to reassure them? Shouldn't our first priority be to retake the castle?"

"They're your people, Caspian," Susan said.

"If you want to prevent another uprising in the future, you need to win them to your side. As long as we're here, we're in control of what happens to them, because we're still legally Narnia's rulers," Edmund added. "Under Narnia's law, you didn't have the authority to promise what you did, so it falls on us to assure them that we intend to hold to your word. If we can convince them of that, it will go a long way towards winning their allegiance. You already have the allegiance of the Narnians, but the only way to truly bring peace back to Narnia is to win your people to your side so that you can start overcoming two decades of mistrust and prejudice."

"You can command obedience, but you'll never be able to command their respect," Lucy inserted. "You have to earn their respect. The pledge you made to them was a step in the right direction, and when we show that we'll uphold it, it will give your people a sense that they can trust you. From there, it will be up to you to maintain that trust and earn that respect, until you have them firmly on your side."

Caspian looked thoughtful. Peter glanced around. "Why don't we all get freshened up to start the day? We have a great many things to take care of."

Cor and Corin took the hint and ducked back into the room they were sharing with Caspian, Edmund, and Peter. Lucy, Susan, and Krisalyn did the same. Aislynn paused long enough to embrace Peter again. "I'm glad that you're alright, Father," she said softly.

Peter smiled and held her closely. The awkwardness of being younger than his grown-daughter had faded and although most people probably wouldn't understand, even if they knew the whole story, Peter didn't particularly care. He was still struck by the fact that this beautiful, brave, young woman was his daughter, and he had missed seeing her grow up. The only thing that he had contributed to her upbringing was his DNA. He couldn't take any credit for what she had become, and that caused him a stab of pain. "I'm grateful that you weren't hurt either, Aislynn," he said, gently tracing the thin white scar that ran down the right side of her face with his thumb.

She smiled and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm fine. Is there anything that I can do to assist?"

Peter nodded. "I want you to accompany me while we walk among the army today. Just like Caspian, you'll need to earn their respect. As their Princess, the more time you spend with them, the more reason they'll have to respect you. You've done a wonderful job leading up to the battle yesterday, but tending to them in the aftermath is just as important for convincing them that you care about them."

Aislynn nodded. "All right." She slipped out of his hold and ducked into the room with the other women, as Peter turned to join his brother and the other royals. As he entered, Edmund tossed a clean shirt and tunic at him. Peter caught the items, and glanced at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

"From Cor," Edmund said, as he secured the fastenings on his own new tunic, this one in a deep burgundy. He was also wearing a new shirt, this one a pale ivory, rather than the dark blue linen one that he'd been wearing since their arrival at the How four days ago. One of his swords was already belted around his waist, and the other was lying sheathed on top of his pallet.

Peter glanced at the other King and nodded. "Thank you." He was tired of wearing the same clothing for the past few days as well. It was only the fact that they had access to a cold water spring and the ability to wash their shirts each night and allow them to dry overnight had kept him from going crazy. One of the things that Peter had been fanatical about was always looking properly groomed when appearing in public. The hours immediately after a battle were different, but if he was going to hold formal audience with the Telmarine leadership later, being clean and neatly groomed would go a long way to making the right kind of impression on the nobles that had survived the battle.

Cor grinned. "You'll need to make a good impression on the Telmarines, so anything I can do to help ensure that we won't have to go through this again, is beneficial in my book." His tone was light and teasing as he knew very well that even without clean clothing Peter could give off an intimidating enough aura that what he was wearing wouldn't matter. Peter knew exactly how to use the power and authority that Aslan had granted him. It didn't matter if he was sixteen or sixty. Peter was a King, through and through. It didn't matter that Peter had had to learn the rules of diplomacy, and learn how to wield a sword. The power and the ability, the leadership qualities…those were inherent, and part of Peter's very make-up as well as being a sign of Aslan's blessings and love.

Peter swiftly changed into his new clothing before he and the others went out to deal with the tasks of the day. The girls were waiting out in the corridor, Susan and Lucy wearing their crowns and carrying their gifts. Krisalyn was holding Rhindon, freshly cleaned and polished, and Aislynn was holding his crown. He smiled at both of them, took the crown from his daughter and settled it on his head, before he took Rhindon and swiftly belted the blade around his waist.

"What's the plan, Pete?" Edmund asked.

"I'm sure Cor and Corin would like to handle their own troops," Peter paused and glanced at the Archenland royals, who both nodded in understanding and headed off. "Lucy, I'd like it if you and Krisalyn would take a walk among the wounded. Take Trufflehunter with you. If there are any critical cases, you may use your cordial, but remember that it is a finite resource, so use your best judgment." He looked at the elder of his sisters, hating what he was about to ask her, but knowing that she had the experience and the compassion to handle the assignment. "Su, I'd like you and Tumnus to handle the arrangements for the vigil. I'd like to hold it within a day or so of retaking Cair Paravel. Make sure all of the fallen have been accounted for, those from our forces and the Archenlanders, and once we've talked to the Telmarines, I'd like to put the names of their fallen on the list as well."

His siblings and Caspian all looked at him, surprised. "Peter?" his youngest sister asked.

Susan frowned. "Our people won't like that idea. They have no reason to like or trust the Telmarines, and they certainly won't like the idea of showing respect to the people who have been their enemies for twenty years."

"The Telmarine soldiers were only following orders, Su. They believed they were defending Narnia as well," Peter reminded her. "They are not to blame for the fact that they were used by selfish men who didn't care about them. If the Narnians and the Telmarines are ever to live in peace, showing respect to the Telmarine fallen will go a long way towards showing them that the Narnians are not monsters."

Susan considered that for a moment, before she nodded in agreement as she realized where her brother was going with this plan and nodded. "Tumnus and I will take care of it. What about you and Aislynn and Edmund?"

"We'll be going among the non-wounded and doing the same thing as Krisalyn and Lucy are doing. The Narnians need to become accustomed to the idea that she is their Princess and future Queen. Later we'll walk among the wounded as well, but Lucy's cordial will be of help to the most severely wounded, and Kris was working with the wounded yesterday during the battle."

"What about the formal audience with the Telmarines?" Edmund asked.

"I'd like to handle that around mid-morning, if possible," Peter said. "I don't think it will take more than an hour to convince the Telmarines of our intentions. It's only a few hours marching pace from here to Cair Paravel, so if we can leave before mid-day, we should be able to reach the palace in plenty of time to reclaim it." He looked over at Caspian. "Is there anyone among the Telmarines whom you might be able to trust to identify the remaining Telmarine leaders?"

"General Glozelle. I had almost convinced him to help me call off his men yesterday when the Trees came to our aid," Caspian said. "He was my sword master, and he's an honorable man."

"Didn't you say he was the one who led the troops into your room the night you fled?" Edmund asked.

"Yes, but he was following the orders of my uncle. I don't know what hold my uncle had over him, but I do know that during all of my training, the one thing that Glozelle emphasized more than anything was acting with honor and dignity," Caspian insisted.

"Peter, why don't Caspian and I go to the Telmarines and find General Glozelle?" Edmund suggested. "I'll be able to tell if he's come back to the side of honor, and he'd be able to single out what is left of Miraz's Council."

Peter considered his brother's suggestion for a moment. "Very well. It will allow us to hold the audience sooner, if you can identify them. Come and find Aislynn and I once you've identified them, and we'll make arrangements for the audience."

Edmund nodded and he and Caspian split off, heading for the surface and the Telmarine encampment. Peter and the others headed in the opposite direction before they split up to visit their designated groups.

"What exactly are we going to do, Father?" Aislynn asked as they moved through the passages of the How.

"One of the things that Edmund and I were always known for on the battlefield was taking the time to visit with as many of the troops as we could after a battle, unless we were injured," Peter explained. "It gives the Narnians a chance to get to know us as something other than their commanders, and a reason to fight for us besides the fact that we are their Kings. If Aslan wills it, the throne will pass to you, and you need to begin cultivating that relationship with them. Many of them do not even know you are my daughter, and they have no reason to trust you or to believe that you understand what being a ruler is all about. It will be up to you to convince them of that; to win their allegiance in the same way that Caspian must win the allegiance of his people."

"So, I should just talk to them?" Aislynn questioned.

Peter nodded. "Ask them about their families, or about what part of Narnia they lived in before all of this began. If they lost someone in the battle, show them your sympathies, and remind them that the fallen will be honored with a memorial vigil as soon as we have full control of Narnia again. If they ask questions of you, feel free to answer them, unless you consider it to be too personal."

Aislynn laughed slightly, though Peter could detect a bit of bitterness in the sound. "I grew up in Anvard's Court, Father, where there is always intrigue of some type occurring. There is no way that any of the Narnians could ask any questions more personal than one of Cor's nobles – and the nobles never even told me about my true relationship to Cor, Corin, or Narnia, even though they had to know. Mother had them intimidated enough that they didn't dare breathe a word of the truth to me, even out of jealousy or maliciousness."

Together they reached the large chamber where the Narnians had bivouacked, many of whom had already woken and were tending to their morning duties. Aislynn glanced over at her father. "Do you have a plan?"

"We'll start at this end of the chamber and walk through to the other side. We don't have to talk to all of them, but every so often we'll just stop and start a conversation. Likely, others will come to see what's going on, and we'll collect little groups," Peter told her. "Normally, I would have done this last night, after the battle, but given how weary everyone was, it was better to wait until this morning."

Aislynn frowned. "It's just barely dawn. Wouldn't we be better served to wait until later?"

"Not really. This isn't something that has to be done all at once. If you take the time to do it before or after each battle, and make a note to talk to as many different people as you can, you'll win their respect. If you do happen to talk to someone you've met before, try to remember at least something about them. It will show them that you care enough about them to remember them," Peter explained. "Even if we only talk to those who are awake now, word will spread about what you've done. The number of people that you talk to doesn't matter. The fact that you've made the effort does."

Aislynn nodded and they moved among the rows of pallets. Most of the Narnians were just beginning to pull themselves from slumber, but the few who were already awake or had been on duty looked up as Peter and Aislynn approached them. One of the Wolves crouched down in the closest approximation of a bow he could make. "Your Majesty, Lady Aislynn."

"Aslan's blessings upon you, fur-brother," Peter replied seriously. "May I have your name?"

"Tethrel of Greymantle Pack."

"Do you run 'lone?" Peter queried.

The Wolf rose and shook his furred head. "Nay, High King. My pack runs with me. My eldest brother was wounded in the battle, and my mate and my sister are on sentry duty near the Telmarine encampment. My other brothers watched over our wounded member during the night, but I have morning patrol, so they sent me to rest."

"I am sorry to hear that," Peter said. "Was the wound serious?"

"Nay, just a broken leg. But our pack stands together through all things," the Wolf said. "We normally run through the woods surrounding the Rush, but when the call came to fight for Narnia, we answered the call."

"I thank you for your service to Aslan and Narnia, fur-brother," Peter replied solemnly. "You shall soon return to your range." He looked at Aislynn. "Have you worked with Lady Aislynn during this struggle?"

"Not directly, but I did provide some of the intelligence of the Telmarine patrols." Tethrel looked at Aislynn. "It was a brave thing that you did, my lady, by riding for Aslan and sending the Dryads to us."

"I thank you, Greymantle," Aislynn said.

"I understand what it is to have family in the line of fire, Greymantle," Peter said. "Lady Aislynn is my daughter and heir to Narnia's throne."

The Wolf immediately bowed again. "Your Highness."

"Rise, Tethrel," Aislynn said. "I may be Narnia's princess by birth, but that title has not been bestowed upon me by rite and oath yet." As the Wolf rose, Aislynn smiled at him. "I shall try to visit your brother and thank him for his service to Narnia. Without the aid of you and your pack, Narnia might have fallen yesterday. I count you and your kin among the most honored."

"I thank you, Your Highness," the Wolf replied.

"Aslan's peace be on you, Tethrel Greymantle," Peter said with a smile as he took Aislynn's arm and started to lead her away.

"And upon you and your kin, High King," the Wolf replied.

Peter and Aislynn moved on and as soon as they were out of earshot of the keen ears of the Wolf, Peter turned to her. "You did wonderfully, Aislynn. Do you feel up to doing some more?"

Aislynn nodded. "I need to make myself known to the Narnians, not as Cor's agent, but as their princess. Let us proceed." Peter could see the aura of rank and responsibility beginning to settle over his daughter as she shifted her thoughts to that of a princess greeting her people.

* * *

Edmund wanted desperately to talk to his brother, but he knew that their duties had to come first. Given the things that Peter had said during the duel about what would happen if one of them died in Narnia, and then the nightmares, Edmund felt that he had reason to be concerned. He was glad to see that his brother and Krisalyn had apparently made up, but he knew they still had a long way to go.

_There will be time to talk to Peter later_, he reminded himself. His brother wasn't going to be going anywhere, and once Cair Paravel was back in their hands and things had settled down some, he knew Peter would make the time to talk to him.

Caspian was leading them towards the Telmarines' encampment, out in the clearing in front of the How. Cor and Corin had posted several of their men as guards around the camp, and the Narnian healers had gone through the camp and tended to the wounds of the Telmarines. The Telmarine dead had been also been gathered together and would be given the proper funerary rites that day. Edmund had no idea how they would work all of that out. The last thing they needed was for the beautiful clearing to become a graveyard, but transporting the bodies back to their homes was probably equally unlikely. In the past, Narnian dead had always been transported back to their families, but there had usually been few dead among the Narnians because of the brilliant tactical planning before any battle. The last battle they'd had to deal with casualties in this number had been the first Battle at Beruna, against the forces of the White Witch. In that situation, the bodies had been burned – but Edmund didn't want to see that happen again. It would be yet another detail they would need to work out, and soon. If the bodies were not taken care of within the next day or so, it was likely that illness would start to spread.

Caspian paused at the entrance to the encampment and Edmund stopped as well. "Where are the wounded being housed?" the prince asked the guard.

"The large tent at the center of the camp holds the most severely wounded. The healers that are still working there will be able to point you to where they've sent the less seriously wounded and those that have been treated, Your Highness," the guard said promptly. He bowed to Edmund. "Your Majesty."

"Thank you," Edmund said. The guard stepped aside and the two of them entered the camp. Both had swords slung at their hips, but while Caspian was wary, Edmund kept his hands relaxed at his side. Even though they were sorely outnumbered, it would be foolish for the Telmarines to try anything. The first sign of a scuffle would bring the guards running, and all it would take was one whistle for reinforcements to come from the How to defend their Just King. Further, both he and Caspian were skilled fighters and could most likely hold their own long enough to get away or for reinforcements to show up.

They entered the healers' tent together and saw that things had apparently settled down overnight. The most severely wounded were resting comfortably, for the most part. There were a few who were moaning in pain, and the healers were moving from pallet to pallet, changing bandages and offering medicines to dull the pain. A few Narnians were moving among the beds as well, and most of the Telmarines were too sorely injured to realize that they were not being treated by their own people. One of the healers, a Red Dwarf, spotted them and came to their side.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness, how may I assist you?" the Dwarf asked with a short bow.

"We seek one of the Telmarines, General Glozelle," Edmund replied.

"He was injured yesterday by one of the Dryads, and I moved him out of sight so that he would not be further injured in the confusion of the retreat," Caspian added. "He sustained a blow to the head and was knocked unconscious."

The Dwarf healer thought for a moment, before nodding. "I remember him. He sustained a mild concussion. He was not severely wounded enough to keep here, so we treated his lacerations and bruises and sent him to a private tent, although we made regular checks on him throughout the night. He'll recover, but he'll have a mighty headache for a day or so."

"Is he coherent enough for us to have an audience with him?" Edmund asked.

The Dwarf nodded. "Yes, sire. Go out this side of the tent and down two rows, make a right and he'll be in the third tent on the left."

"Thank you," Edmund replied before turning to lead the way out of the tent. Caspian fell into step beside him as they made their way to the tent that had been indicated.

"King Edmund, what exactly do you plan to do?" Caspian asked quietly.

"You claim he is an honorable man," Edmund said, his voice equally low. "I wish to speak with him. If he is as honorable as you say, it should be easy enough to convince him to place his loyalty with you and to help us work for peace in Narnia. If he has the influence that he should as a General, his voice could make a great difference in convincing the rest of the leadership to throw their support behind you, which will get the army on our side and make claiming Cair Paravel that much simpler."

They arrived at the indicated tent and Caspian stepped over to the flap and rustled it. "General Glozelle?"

There was movement from inside the tent before the flap was pushed open and Glozelle stood framed in the opening. He looked out and saw Caspian, and behind him, Edmund, and immediately sank to one knee. "Your Majesty."

"You may rise, General," Edmund said. As Glozelle climbed back to his feet, Edmund studied him closely. "Do you know who I am?"

"You are King Edmund of Narnia," Glozelle replied immediately. "How may I assist you, sire?"

"I would like you to walk with me, General. There is much I wish to discuss with you," Edmund replied. He looked at Caspian. "Would you mind waiting here for us, Caspian? I'd like to speak to the General alone."

Caspian nodded. "Of course, King Edmund."

Edmund started off and Glozelle fell into step with him, but a respectable half-step behind him. They walked for a few minutes before Edmund spoke. "General, I noticed during the duel that Miraz wanted you to use the crossbow you carried to attack my brother, High King Peter."

Glozelle merely nodded.

"Why did you not do as you were commanded?" Edmund asked.

Glozelle was quiet for several seconds before he answered. "My understanding was that it was a duel of honor. If I had acted as commanded, it would have invalidated the duel, and a notable and honorable fighter would have been killed." He paused for a moment. "From what I observed, your brother – the High King – was the more honorable fighter. No matter what Miraz attempted, His Majesty faced it with honor."

"Thank you."

Glozelle jerked in surprise. "Your Majesty?"

Edmund stopped and looked at him seriously. "Thank you. Whatever your reasons, you helped to save my brother's life." He started walking again. "Caspian told us that you were an honorable man, and that you had consented to helping call off the attack just before you were wounded."

"My loyalty has always been to my people, and to the royal family ever since King Caspian promoted me to General," Glozelle said, his tone cautious. "After His Majesty's death, I was obligated to serve Lord Miraz in lieu of Prince Caspian until the Prince's eighteenth birthday. I have come to realize in recent days, however, that if I truly wished to serve the best interests of my people, it would not happen by following Miraz."

"Why did you lead the attack after the duel ended?" Edmund asked, his tone neutral and not revealing anything of what he was thinking. If Caspian was right and Glozelle was an honorable man, he would have good reason for ordering the charge instead of refusing to fight. As the General of the Telmarine army, he was supposed to be in command, which meant that he should have been the one ordering the attack.

"Because Prince Caspian is not of age, I must obey the orders of the ranking member of the Council in the absence of our King. Miraz was crowned King by our laws while Prince Caspian's allegiance was in doubt, and after Miraz was killed by your archer, Lord Sopespian was the next highest ranking member of the Council. He ordered the attack, and I was duty-bound to obey."

Edmund shook his head. "It was not our archers who killed Miraz. The arrow belongs to my sister, Queen Susan, but she did not fire. We obeyed the bounds of the duel, and Peter had won. We had no reason to take Miraz's life. Miraz's life was stolen by Lord Sopespian, in an effort to claim the throne for himself as regent for Miraz's son."

Glozelle was quiet as he digested Edmund's words. They were continuing among the tents, and Edmund could see that many of the Telmarines were watching them closely, although no one made a move towards them.

"Then Lord Sopespian was wrong, and I obeyed under false pretenses, Your Majesty," Glozelle replied. He knelt again. "I deeply apologize for any loss of Narnian life that arose as a result of my failure, and I accept full responsibility."

"You may rise, General," Edmund bade him. Although he showed no sign of his reaction, inwardly he was very pleased. There were very few enemies that he had encountered in his life who had displayed the level of respect and honor that Glozelle had at that moment. He felt that he could return to Peter confident that Glozelle's allegiance would be to Caspian, and that he would serve honorably and well. Edmund remained silent as they continued back around to where they had left Caspian standing before he spoke again. "General, will you swear allegiance to Prince Caspian, at this moment, and pledge to serve him with the honor and the respect that you've just shown to me?"

Edmund's words caused a stirring among the nearby Telmarines, who gathered around to witness what was happening. They were careful to maintain their distance, as Edmund and Caspian were both armed, but they were watching the situation closely.

Glozelle didn't hesitate. "I will, Your Majesty." He knelt a third time, this time at Caspian's feet, and raised his fist to cover his heart, as he bowed his head. "Your Highness, I pledge to serve you and the people of Telmar from this moment forth, and to serve with honor and dignity, as a warrior should."

More mutterings and murmurs came from the nearby Telmarines. Glozelle was their General and highly respected among them. This pledge of fealty would have impact on all of them as well. By pledging his loyalty to Caspian, if Caspian kept him in the position of General, he was pledging the Telmarine army to serve Caspian as well. Any further rebellion from this moment would be treated as an attempted coup, and the offenders would be treated harshly.

Caspian looked wildly at Edmund for guidance. This was not something that he had ever had to deal with before. The Narnians had pledged to follow him, but they had their Kings and Queens and now Princess Aislynn to follow, and the oaths they had sworn to Peter and his siblings superseded those they had sworn to Caspian. Edmund smiled at him and nodded, urging him to accept Glozelle's pledge.

Caspian looked back at Glozelle. "I accept your pledge, General. Please rise."

* * *

"Thank you for what you did for Peter," Lucy said as they moved along the corridors to the chamber where the wounded Narnians had been brought after the battle. Lucy fingered her cordial absently as she thought about what Edmund had said about how he'd convinced Peter to take a drop of her cordial after the duel was over. If he hadn't been able to, Peter would probably be lying among the wounded Narnians himself.

Susan had never been able to understand how she could work among the wounded, treating their wounds without the cordial. Lucy knew very well that while her sister could put on a brave front, the sight and smell of blood bothered her greatly. But healing had been something that Lucy had been interested in since the day she had received her cordial from Father Christmas all those years ago. She knew Peter and Edmund didn't like her fighting, and although she had helped the archers before on other campaigns and learned to fight with her sword and dagger, it wasn't something any of her siblings were comfortable with. She refused to stay at Cair Paravel when danger threatened Narnia – Aslan had named her Valiant after all – so the logical place for her was among the healers. Although it still bothered her when Peter or Edmund were the ones brought in, she had found that she could do the work of a healer and do it well. She had come to be so good at it that she had been considering becoming a doctor or a nurse when they had been sent back to England.

That was why she had agreed so readily when Peter had asked her to walk with Krisalyn among the wounded. The Narnians were her people and she wanted to care for them. It had been hard not to use her cordial on every wounded Narnian since the battle at Beruna against the Witch, but Peter had convinced her that her cordial was rare and precious and should only be used in cases where the healers couldn't do anything to help. Once her cordial was gone, there would be no more. Even after fifteen years of rule, the bottle was still mostly full, thanks to Peter's caution about using it.

"I'm glad that I could help him, and that he let me," Krisalyn said softly. "Peter…he's changed so much from what I remember. Not just his age, which baffles me, but…he's not the same man I remember, and yet he is."

"You've changed too, Kris," Lucy said softly, cautiously. She and Susan had had a marvelous working relationship with their sister-in-law before they had left Narnia, as well as a close family one. Krisalyn had fit into their family as if she had always belonged there. But after seeing how angry and bitter Krisalyn had been when she'd arrived, Lucy hadn't been sure how to address her, or what level of interference she or Peter would tolerate. She had wanted to apologize for being the one who had led them out of Narnia, but she hadn't dared.

Krisalyn nodded. "I know. I hate to admit it, but these last twenty-five years have been hard for me. I didn't know what to think or feel when I found out that Peter had returned after so long, when I had given up hope of ever seeing him again. Its…its been hard learning to trust him again. But I came to realize that he really is the same man I fell in love with and married, and he is still Aislynn's father. I told Aislynn that Peter was dead because I didn't want her to believe that he had abandoned us. I only had wonderful memories of Peter, and I didn't want to poison Aislynn with my bitterness."

"You still love him," Lucy said, quietly.

"Very much," Krisalyn said, tears gathering in her violet eyes. "That's why this has been so hard for me. He came back to us, but it won't matter for much longer."

Lucy frowned, confused at her sister-in-law's words. "Why? Just because the rule of Narnia should pass to Aislynn? It should, but Aslan hasn't given us any indication that we'll be leaving Narnia any time soon."

Krisalyn shook her head. "No, Lucy." There was a quiet despair in her eyes that Lucy had never seen before. This wasn't the same sorrow and grief that Krisalyn had shown after her miscarriage. This was more of a resignation, of a quiet acceptance mingled with sorrow and grief, and it was causing Lucy no little alarm. What so deeply troubled Krisalyn that she wasn't willing to fight it with all the spirit and fervor that she had shown every other time they had been forced to face trouble or threat?

Lucy took Krisalyn's arm and pulled her to a halt. The corridors and passages were still quiet since it was early yet, so Lucy felt that it would be safe to speak seriously with Krisalyn without worrying about anyone overhearing them. "Kris, please tell me what is wrong."

Krisalyn sighed. "Everyone else knows. I'm surprised no one mentioned it to you," she said quietly. Her violet eyes met Lucy's brown ones straight on. "I'm ill, Lucy, and dying slowly."

Lucy's mind whirled as she remembered Aislynn's stranger behavior when Corin had first arrived. In the days leading up to yesterday's battle, she'd forgotten all about it. "What do you mean?"

Lucy could only listen as Krisalyn detailed the symptoms that had been plaguing her for two years, and the Anvard healer's prognosis of how much time she had remaining to her. Outwardly, she kept her face calm and composed, but her mind was working furiously, trying to remember everything that the healers at Cair Paravel had taught her during the fifteen years they had ruled from the palace by the sea. While she could think of several things that the symptoms indicated, none of the illnesses that crossed her mind included every single symptom. Either way, though, she knew what she had to do. Reaching down to her belt pouch, she removed her cordial and handed it to Krisalyn. "Here. Take this."

Krisalyn's eyes were sad and accepting as she pushed the diamond bottle away. "Lucy, your cordial is for healing wounds, not illness."

"I've never tried to use it on an illness," Lucy replied. "I have no idea if it will work or not, but it certainly couldn't hurt." She extended the bottle again. "Take some." When Krisalyn continued to hesitate, Lucy caught her attention. "Kris, if you're worried about what Peter will say, don't be. Peter wants you to be healthy and strong. Perhaps this will not heal you, but it very well may. You should not have to suffer when there may be a way to heal you."

Krisalyn shook her head. "I'm not concerned with what Peter will say. Edmund and I already discussed this. I'm thinking about the future and what is best for Narnia."

Lucy frowned, not understanding. "How so?"

"You and your siblings have had your reign," Krisalyn began. "While you will always be Narnia's Kings and Queens – as I will – it is past time for the throne to pass to Aislynn. But as long as I live, I will be a figurehead, especially if Aslan does not intend for you to remain here. Aislynn will never truly have control or the confidence of the Narnians if they believe that there is a more experienced ruler. There is a reason that Aslan has not healed me of this illness and no treatment has worked. It is possible that Aslan intends for me to walk with him in his Country once Aislynn is securely on the throne."

Lucy was both appalled and in awe of her sister-in-law's reasoning. It made all too much sense, but in her mind there was still no reason for Krisalyn to suffer. She had not wanted to admit it to herself, but the odds of them remaining here for years upon years again were slim. It had become apparent within a few days of meeting Caspian and Aislynn that she and her siblings were here only to ensure that Narnia's rule was restored to its proper place. Krisalyn was correct that as long as she lived or any of the rest of Narnia's Kings and Queens remained in Narnia, their presence would cast doubt on Aislynn's ability to rule the land that was hers by birthright.

But Lucy was not about to voice her agreement of those thoughts, nor was she quite willing to face the idea that they wouldn't be in Narnia, their beloved country, for much longer. Instead, she simply held her cordial out again. "Please, Kris. Take some for me, if not for Peter. If Aslan intends you to walk with him soon, I'm sure my cordial won't make that much of a difference, but you shouldn't have to suffer these dizzy spells. The cordial may not do anything, but maybe it will at least relieve the symptoms for a short time. And to be frank, Narnia cannot afford for any of her Kings and Queens to be seen as weak by the Telmarines in the coming days."

Apparently that argument made it past Krisalyn's reticence as she finally nodded and accepted the diamond flask, carefully swallowing a single drop before she handed it back to Lucy. As Lucy put it back in her belt pouch, she watched Krisalyn closely for any signs of an improvement. Normally, the cordial's effects became apparent within seconds. But that was the effect on wounds. Lucy had no idea if there would be any noticeable effects on Krisalyn, given that she was afflicted by illness rather than a wound.

After nearly a minute, Krisalyn sighed. "I don't feel any different," knowing all too well what Lucy was looking for.

"Don't give up hope, Kris," Lucy said. "When we finish our task among the wounded, we can find Aslan. Surely he can tell us if it had any kind of effect on you." She forced herself to show the optimism that she was known for. "And maybe it did work and you won't have to deal with the vertigo any more."

"Perhaps," Krisalyn agreed, noncommittally. She looked down the corridor and tilted her head in the direction they had been going. "Shall we continue with our tasks?"

Lucy nodded silently and turned to follow Krisalyn as they continued down the corridor towards the healers' "wing". Her mind continued to race as she forced herself to consider what lay ahead of them. As the leaders of the Narnian forces, she, her siblings, Aislynn, and Caspian would all need to ride with the army to reclaim Cair Paravel, but once that was done…

They wouldn't be staying, she realized. Their presence would only destabilize everything that they had worked for and the fight to put Aislynn and Caspian on their respective thrones. This was not their Narnia any longer. It hadn't been their Narnia since they day they had left on the hunt for the White Stag. Peter and Edmund had been needed for their tactical planning and their skills as Narnia's Sword and the High King's Shield, and she had been needed to help lead the Narnians back to faith in Aslan after all these years…but they had now served their purpose.

"Lucy."

Lucy glanced over at Krisalyn, who had turned her head to look at her, even as they continued to walk. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

Two simple words, but Lucy understood every nuance of them in that instant. Her sister-in-law was thanking her for finding Aslan in time to save Aislynn, for helping to restore the Narnians hope in the Great Lion, for helping Peter, and least of all, for insisting on giving her the cordial in the faint hope that her life might be extended or the symptoms of her illness eased.

Lucy felt her lips curve into a smile. "You're welcome."

_**tbc...*ducks and runs***_


End file.
